


Swing Bones and Motorbikes

by seraph5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraph5/pseuds/seraph5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is 23 years old and sent on a road trip down south to New Orleans to pick up supplies for Bobby. Little does he know what turn the trip will take when he meets an injured boy on the road one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

There where many droughts in Kansas the year of the great spirit uprising. The water had dried up leaving nothing but the husk of the earth, which whipped unforgivingly across crops and planes alike. Liquor had been replaced by soda and near-beers which where about as far from a desperately needed stiff drink as a man could get. Then there were the souls of the people residing there thirsty, mourning a loss shared by the world and trying to make it along with the little money they had.

Sometimes John Winchester felt bad when he walked through the dusty small town and saw the faces of the townsfolk. He was a man who suffered under no lack of liquor or dying crops. He lived comfortably in a large house with his eldest son who was fit and alive, more then could be said for many young men in his country. However John was not all together exempt from misery. He had an aching limp that would never heal, memories of battle haunting him and his business had been almost unmanageably hectic of late. In many ways for his work, at least, he was grateful. 

Except when his brother called. 

* * *

"Hey!" 

Dean snorted awake with two hands shaking him hard. 

"Jeez Earl I said I'll pay you tomorrow!" Dean grumbled shirking the bartender off. He came to his senses blinking blearily through the smoke of the only bar in town with under the counter service. He tried to remember why he was still there and not at home when the empty glass before him offered a gentle reminder. He'd been too drunk to leave.

"It's not that Dean. Your Dad's comin!" Earl warned before quickly shuffling off back behind the counter. Dean's eyes darted over to the door: even with the crutch his father cut an impressive figure in the dim bar lights. 

"Dean" he had scarcely raised his voice and yet it carried all the way across the room. Some of the patrons looked over as the two regarded each other. With one staggering movement Dean slid out of his seat, picked his coat up off the back of his chair and made his way over to the door, keeping his balance the best he could. John held the door open, Dean walked out through it into the night and then they where gone.

 

The walk home was a mostly silent one aside from the occasional sound of Dean kicking stones loose from the road. His father had few rules and while Dean's curfew was a late one, it had always been enforced as closely as the rules of the law. Dean wondered what his punishment would be and knew it would be some time before the severe silence was lifted. It wasn't till an hour later, and after a fierce lecture, that his strange penalty would be handed down. 

"What where you thinking?!" John roared and the walls of the living room shook "You have a curfew for a reason!"

"Yes sir" Dean replied, sitting on the couch with his back straight and chin high "I fell asleep-"

"That's worse! You can't be seen drunk not even in a bar," John snarled back at the reply shooting it out of the air. Dean winced at the volume his father could muster. "It doesn't take a genius to see that a mechanic shouldn't be able to afford enough liquor to get drunk. You want to drink you do it here" 

"Yes sir!" Dean snapped the reply out realizing his error. 

John paced for a few more moments before a shudder ran through his leg. After a half hour of walking and a full hour of reprimanding it could no longer hold out. With a weary sigh he sank into his chair rubbing his knee. Dean stared intently at the floor. There was a long silence filed in by the occasional tiny click clack of insects, the scratching of wildlife outside and the whispering wind. 

"You're going to run some errands for Bobby" John said finally his tone calmer but final. Dean raised his eyes to meet John's, confused. 

"Bobby's in Chicago…" Dean said slowly "What can I do for him here?"

"Come here" John gestured and Dean obeyed crossing the room. John held out a piece of paper with a list scrawled on it. Dean took it skimming the words.

"This stuff is from New Orleans" Dean said finally. 

"It is. You're gonna go get them and take them to him" John said.

Dean could scarcely believe the ridiculousness of the punishment. He had been expecting to clear the gunk from the toilet not go on a cross-country grocery trip. 

"Did Bobby say why he needed it?" Dean said examining the list, knowing there was more to the trip then his father was telling him. 

"It's for a ritual of some kind"" John replied a thoughtful expression on his face, "He said to call him in a few days about it" 

"But…" Dean said trying to think of a way to reason with him "Can't you do it? I'm halfway through fixing the Miller's gang plough-" Dean asked knowing the pay he would loose if he left but in a second John's eyes turned to steel.

"No. I've got a job lined up here" John spoke tone rough and hard "Bobby needs those things now. Pack your stuff. You're heading out tomorrow" Dean bit his tongue and heeded his father's words. 

"Yes sir" Dean said and headed for the stairs leading to his room. The last glimpse he caught of his father was the man lifting a bottle of unmarked whiskey from under a floorboard.

* * *

Dean walked out to the shed bag slung over his shoulder; John was only a few minutes behind, collecting some things from the house. It was a cool morning but Dean knew before long the sun would be tanning the leather on his back. After a good night sleep he found the idea of a road trip to Chicago via New Orleans much less of a pain. He'd have a couple of weeks off work, he'd be out on his own and he'd see Bobby. 

The shed doors where stiff and creaked as Dean dragged them open. The sight of the small collection of his Dad's vehicles drew a smile to his face. Every car was rare from the Chevy 2 door sedan to the LeGrande Torpedo Phaeton. John was a man with a penchant for procuring rare objects and Dean was beginning to follow in his footsteps. Dean passed his fingers reverently over the large circular lights of the Chevy and watched his reflection in the glossy painted surface. He'd tinkered with these beauties before but had yet been allowed to drive one. It seemed, in spite his anticipation, now would not be the time either. 

"You'll be taking the Indian" John spoke as he reached the sheds entrance a small box in one hand and a set of saddlebags in the other.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked unable to mask a rising sense of excitement.

"Yep" John said watching his son's expression contentedly. Dean rounded behind the cars and drew the Indian out "In fact if you're careful with it I'll even let you keep it" 

"Dad" The word barely escaped his mouth for the pure shock behind it. He stared at his father with wondering eyes. 

"Don't get too excited, it ain't yours yet" 

Dean nodded turning his fond eyes to the Indian. He dusted off the surface of the only motorcycle John owned. It's panels where dark red with gold details running down the edges and the word 'Indian' hand painted on the sides of the fuel tank. He remembered the night his father had brought it home. He'd rode up into the porch lights like some creature from the night. He and Sam had stood on the top step admiring the machine with all the commotion two teenage boys could muster. It was the same night his father's leather jacket, scarcely taken off since, was brought home. 

"This bike hasn't been out much so go easy on it" John said placing the saddlebags over the back of the bike and tying them down "You got everything you need in here" he said patting the bags. Dean nodded as he secured his own bag over the back wheel "You get in trouble, you call me"

"You got it" Dean said buttoning up his own leather jacket. 

"Say hi to Bobby for me, tell him he should come visit his brother some time. Oh this is for Rufus" John said handing a box to Dean "Don't drink it"

"Oh man we're working with Rufus" Dean groaned before packing the box safely into one of the saddlebags, "That old man hates me"

"He hates everybody. I'm not asking you to stay the weekend, just get the stuff and go" John said a smirk bringing warmth to his eyes. 

"Fine" Dean said returning the gesture and tied a handkerchief around his neck "Anything else?"

"Yeah" John said some of the cheer fading from his face before he looked away "If you see Sam in Chicago could you tell him I wanna talk to him"

There was a moment of silence for the rarely touched upon subject. 

"Yeah…sure" Dean replied rounding the bike to stand by his father's side "You two gonna patch things up?"

"Maybe" John murmured and there was a haze in his eyes as though that angry, raw memory was replaying as it had so many times before "Anyway you'd better get going" 

Dean tightly embraced his father and with two firm pats on the back John took a step back. Dean slung his leg over the bike resting his right foot on the pedal. It took a few cranks of his foot up and down on the pedal before the loud burbling click clack of the engine turning over began. Slipping a pair of sunglasses on he gave his father a nod and a smile. 

"And Dean?" John shouted over the sound of the engine. Dean looked over as he put the bike into gear "Pick up some money while you're out" 

"YES SIR!" Dean cried with exhilaration, the wheels twisting into the dirt leaving nothing but a dust cloud behind. 

 

* * *

 

The room was murky with creeping shadows.

"What is the count up to?" a rough voice asked, scratched from years of breathing brimstone smoke.

"16,563,868 worldwide" a smooth female tone replied. 

"And here?" he asked.

"117,465" she replied. There was a pause. The few loyal to him where already clearing his path with silent murders and cross road deals. No doubt there would be bigger fish to fry. He need only concern himself personally with the sharks. 

"Is anyone going to get in our way?" He continued. 

"There is one man of note who may become a problem if left unchecked" she answered.

"Name" He asked.

"Bobby Singer"


	2. Two is Company

Dean had come to enjoy the feeling of flying with an intrinsic kind of pleasure. Below him the ground raced past his feet, so close he could almost feel the asphalt. In his peripheral vision just visible past his sunglasses trees, fences and fields blurred into each other all one picture of speed and movement. Wind rushed through his hair and curled into the hollow of his neck. 

He'd driven the Indian on short trips around Kansas from time to time in the past but had scarcely pushed it past 30mph. Now he was looking at the world from sweet 60. This seemed to apply to his life in many ways since he'd left home. In Kansas he was trudging along, working as a mechanic, catching the occasional movie and sneaking drinks at the bar. Now he flew. 

The orange and gold rays of the sun where mixing close to the horizon offering up the last of their warmth for the day. It was the third sunset on the road Dean had seen and it is was no less breath taking. The last one had been slightly marred by the fact that he had been pushing the Indian for 4 hours but even then it had made him smile. 

His father had failed to mention the finer details of the Indians capabilities including the miles per galleon ratio. This saw Dean on empty in the middle of a long uninhabited stretch of road. When he had finally reached the next town dusty and exhausted he'd lost a day and slept till late the following morning. Due to this mishap Dean had made sure to buy extra fuel and had a bottle of it stored away on the back of the bike. As the last rays melted from the sky the lights of a town ahead came into view. 

Dean decided to stop and check his map to see how far away the town after this one was as he felt he could still go on for a few hours more. He had a moment, one of those that came and went from time to time, where he thought of his little brother. Sam loved reading maps. On any of their expeditions weather from the house to the old well in the abandoned lot nearby when they were 5 and 9 to visiting Bobby in Chicago short years ago Sam had always been the one leading the way. Dean wished his brother was with him now, he knew Sam would love this trip south. 

He drove through the little main strip becoming distracted by the shop fronts and stores. Having only left Kansas a few times in his life travelling was offering him an interesting view of other towns in the area. Mostly they were like the shops in his hometown but occasionally he would come across one that had an appliance he'd never seen before or a car he didn't recognize. When he reached the other side of town he pulled over under the last street lamp and retrieved the map out of his right saddlebag. 

After a few quick calculations he decided he could make it to the next town but would need to fill up his gas tank. He hopped off the bike and tucked the map away. He drew out the spare bottle of gas he was carrying and began filling the tank. As he did so he whistled to himself and wondered what New Orleans would be like. He knew one thing with certainty; he was going to see some real live jazz. With a sidelong grin he began singing to himself on the vacant road.

"I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees. I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees" the sting of strings on a fret board played in his mind as he sung "Asked the Lord above have mercy, now save poor Bob, if you please"

He hummed the next few sentences as he finished filling his tank. He lifted the lid to screw onto the bottle when he heard a sound and paused. It was a rustling sound like shoes scrabbling through dirt. Then raised voices. There was more then one and they stabbed the peaceful night air. Dean's eyebrows drew together at the sinister undertone of their voices. He listened while storing his bottle away. He decided whatever brawl or alleyway fight was occurring he didn't want to get caught up in it and threw one leg over his bike. Footsteps growing louder and louder pounded the road somewhere in the near distance. He lifted his weight onto the pedal and cranked the Indian to life. He gripped the clutch. 

"HEY!" 

He threw a glance over his shoulder; hand ready to change gears at any moment. There was a figure running towards him from the town at a break neck pace. As this person fled under the lamplights Dean caught a glimpse of his disheveled form. It was a young man, a little smaller then Dean and didn't seem like much of a threat. He decided to wait and see what the boy had to say. 

"Please!" the boy said as he drew near slowing to a halt next to Dean his head hanging low with exhaustion. He drew in desperate rasping breaths before looking up. Dean took in the sight of the beaten boy with shock. He had dark shadows around his eyes and a broken lip, which was dribbling blood down his torn sweater. Between his swollen eyelids Dean read a kind of fear one held only for their life. 

"Please help me," He begged swaying. 

"Hey, hey take it easy" Dean said climbing off the bike and steadying him with one hand.

"Please" he gasped gripping Dean's shoulders with shaking hands "Please get me out of here"

"Wha-?" Before the question could escape Dean's mouth a small group of men rounded the same corner this boy had appeared from. The boy raked in a hiss, his grip tightening painfully against Dean's skin. He looked back breathing hard.

"Please!" he begged.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY YOU FILTHY PIG!" Their voices where thick with rage "NOT TONIGHT CAS!"

Dean's eyes flicked between the 3 approaching men and the boy who seemed to be weighing up his options. Dean could tell from the way his legs where shaking he didn't have much running left in him. 

"Hey fellas what seems to be the problem?" Dean asked and the group slowed to a walk. As they came into the light Dean took stock of them. He suspected the tallest one bringing up the front was the one in charge. He was skinny and had a cruel, ugly quality to his sneer. The one on his right was stocky and heavy set, probably a farm hand and looked strong and dumb. The last one was only marginally taller then the second and had similar features, Dean suspected that they were probably brothers. The first brother was toting a wooden fence post, the second a crow bar while their leader was unarmed. The pose seemed to contain just the right mix of stupidity and hate to be deadly. 

"Nothing kid, you just be on your way" The leader replied voice filled with malicious confidence. 

"Wouldn't wanna get messed up in our business boy. We come for this filthy piece o shit and nothin more," Idiot brother 1 added. 

"Come on boys it's such a nice night out, why don't you get on back to town" Dean suggested.

"Fuck off" Brother 2 snarled holding his crow bar up menacingly. Dean looked to the boy Cas, held his gaze and then stepped away towards the Indian. Cas bowed his head fingers slipping from their grip on Dean's shoulders. 

"Caleb there is no need for-" Cas began turning his pleading voice to the men but before he could finish the leader named Caleb had grabbed him roughly by the shirt belting him in the head for good measure. 

"You're an abomination before God and you're gonna pay for what you did" he snarled into Castiel's face "Prepare for your judgment" Cas squirmed against the hands that held him but had worn out his ability to defend himself long ago. 

There was a loud dull clunking sound and Caleb's eyes rolled up before he fell to the ground along with Cas. Dean stood where Caleb had been a bloodied spanner in hand.

"Caleb!" Idiot brother 2 shouted and the two turned their fury toward Dean. 

"Come on!" Dean roared holding the spanner up like a club. Brother 1 ran at him swinging the fence post like a baseball bat. Dean ducked the post and swung the wrench snapping the heavy metal clear across the brother's wrist. The brother gave an agonized yelp before swinging the post again. It clipped the side of Dean's head but didn't slow Dean as he leapt behind kicking his attacker in the back of his knee. The brother fell forward but caught his balance for a moment. Dean gave him a whack over the back of the head for good measure and finally he fell to the road. Suddenly Dean was beat forward, a line of pain branding the back his shoulders and he tripped over the first brother now groaning on the ground. He hit the road and rolled onto his back in time to see brother two standing over him crow bar held high overhead. 

"You hurt Dan!" he roared bringing the metal rod down, Dean pushing himself out of the way. The crow bar caught his shoulder earning a cry from Dean. He lifted his knees up and thrust his feet into the second brother's chest sending him flying onto his back. Quickly Dean leapt onto him snatching the crow bar and tossing it away. Dean looked over at where Cas was just finding his feet.

"HEY!" He snapped and Cas looked over at him "Get on the Indian!" 

The second brother yanked an arm free smashing his knuckles across Dean's jaw. Dean slumped to the side the second brother rolling on top of him. He held a raw fist up ready to lay into Dean. Before he could land another punch Cas had thrown himself into the second brother with all his might and weight knocking him clear off Dean. Dean turned over onto his stomach with a moan and stared around at the injured brothers who were beginning pick themselves up for round two. He forced himself up, grabbed Cas by the arm and hauled him to his feet trying to ignore the agony searing into his shoulder. He dragged the two of them over to the bike and climbed on pulling Cas on behind him. 

"Hang on" He ordered and in the blink of an eye he'd driven the Indian from neutral to high gear. The sound of curses followed them till were out of hearing range and out of sight, the men sinking far into the distance. Dean's heart was still racing when they drove past a mile marker half an hour out of town. He could tell from the way the body against his back was shuddering that this boy was not doing well. Dean pushed the Indian as fast as it would go while his mind kept up the same pace. He didn't know what to do with this injured stranger. Who was he? What had he done? Who was going to pay for his treatment? He had scarcely enough money for himself for the next three days and he needed it to get to Shreveport. Without Shreveport he would have no money for the rest of the trip and he would be stranded. He weighed all options trying to ignore the aching injured points in his body.

Before long another small town came into view and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. They passed the farms on the outskirts of town, then houses and before long where onto the main strip. Dean saw a small hotel towards the end of the shops and stores. He began to slow down and surmised if he left Cas at the hotel's front door someone would help him. 

"Hey" he shouted over the engine and when no reply came he tried again "Hey listen I was thinking I might drop you off at this hotel. If you go inside I'm sure the folks at the front desk will help you out" there was another extended pause before a realization dawned on Dean.

Cas had gone still, had not moved for the last few miles. Just as he was coming to a halt the weight on his back began to slip and he slammed on the breaks and whipped an arm back catching Cas before he fell off the bike. 

"UUhr!" Dean snarled as the pain in his shoulder flared again and he pulled the body back behind him "Hey?" he shook him deciding to try the name the men had used "Hey Cas?" There was a mumbling sound and Dean could feel a jaw moving against his shoulder blades. Dean just scarcely caught the words 'thank you' before Cas went still again. 

Dean sighed regarding the long dark road ahead. In his mind he knew what he should do, knew that he could not loose time and money. He tapped at the fuel tank with his thumb and pondered for a while. Finally his jaw set in place mind locking onto a decision and he drove the bike up onto the curb parking it next to the hotel entrance. 

"Why me?" He grumbled softly and holding Cas steady with one hand he slipped off the bike "Hey Cas, work with me here" He added slipping his arm under Cas's shoulders and lifted the half conscious boy off the Indian. To the boy's credit he was still able to put one foot in front of the other and while leaning heavily on Dean the two made it to the foot of the steps. 

"C'mon" he groaned lifting Cas up the steps to the hotel door. He struggled with the handle for only a moment before getting it open. The door swung in to reveal a small foyer with a desk and a clerk. The clerk's expression went from a hazy blur of boredom to shocked alarm.

"Room for two please" Dean ordered with the most innocent expression he could muster. 

* * *

It had taken Dean the better part of an hour to get settled into the hotel room after fetching the bags from the bike and washing himself and his clothes. He stood in the tiny bathroom with his medical kit going over his injuries in the mirror. He was relieved to discover that the part of his shoulder that had been hit by the crow bar was merely badly bruised. He had been worried it was broken. His father, having served in the army, had taught him and Sam many things about army life. He'd taught them how to fight, how to hunt animals for food, how to read your injuries correctly and dress your wounds accordingly. The mandatory lessons weren't something Dean had often been grateful for but tonight he almost felt like calling his father and thanking him properly. 

He placed an ice pack on his shoulder and tied it down with a bandage. Next, with a great deal of swearing, he cleaned the graze on the side of his head and ear and applied some antiseptic. His jaw was aching but he knew that it would be nothing more then another bruise in a few hours. All in all his injuries, though throbbing, where superficial. He checked his watch and wearily rubbed his eyes. He wanted nothing more then to fall into bed. He filled a bowl with warm water and collected the items in his medical kit, and then using his foot he opened the door of the bathroom. 

Lying on one of the two double beds a few feet away was Cas. Dean stared at him at length measuring the task ahead. The boy lay on his back in an awkward sideways position taken from where the clerk and Dean had laid him down. His clothes where dusty and there were rips in his pants and vest that looked beyond fixing. The white shirt beneath the vest was stained with blood and the top button was missing. Loosely hanging around his neck and tucked into his vest was a blue tie. 

Dean left his leaning spot in the doorframe to approach the bedside table. He set down the water and medical kit before dragging the footrest at the end of the bed to the side closest to Cas. 

"So Cas" He said sitting down certain Cas was completely unconscious "My name is Dean. Don't worry about replying I'm just talking to hear my own head roar" 

He propped Cas's head up with some pillows and the gentle expression on his beaten face gave Dean pause. It was strange to see such tranquility conveyed with such wounds. He began by cleaning the boys face so he could see what were cuts and what was dirt and sweat. He ground his teeth at the sight of the clean face. Two black eyes, one less severe then the other, a broken lip, grazes around his face and defensive abrasions on his knuckles. 

"What did you do?" Dean asked as he dabbed antiseptic onto the boy's hands and face. He applied some butterfly bandages to a deeper gash across his left cheekbone and the broken lip. Dean wondered about this stranger as he placed band-aids and bandages onto broken and bruised skin. Eventually he pulled off Cas's shoes, folded the blankets over him and placed an ice pack over his eyes. 

"Sweet dreams" He muttered to himself as he walked to his own bedroom turning off the lights as he went. He dragged back the covers and fell into bed. 

He was asleep a moment later. 

* * *

The cold nips at her shivering skin as she and the others wait. It's nothing she tells herself, nothing compared to what lies beyond the hill in the distance. It's a clear night. The moon is high in the sky casting a blue glow over the sparse landscape. The view is almost picturesque spoiled only by the booming shattering cacophony over the hill. The sound that's loud at first then inhales like a mouth sucking in the souls it has destroyed. There's a call and she knows its time. She tightens her belt around her stomach hoping it will hold it there instead of letting it launch up into her throat. 

She is calm but she will never be ready. Beside her a boy is lying on a bed all wrapped in bloodied bandages. He is begging. He tugs at her arm and tells her to go, tells her tonight is the night, tells her she must run and run fast but she does not listen. He won't be the first to tell her this and he won't be the last, she knows. The trucks come, the bodies are wheeled in like meat on slabs and she and the other nurses and doctors go to work. She knows he is here somewhere, maybe not amongst the bodies but somewhere on the same land she is standing on. That is enough. That is more then what most women have. 

At the back of the room the boy is still begging, still pleading, they wheel him away because he is screaming to her. 

"GO! GET OUT! GO!"

* * *

Dean was aware of the tacky oppressive heat first as the sound of his own strangled cry awoke him. He tried to get up and away from the stifling bed but fell back when he found he was twisted in blankets. He shut his eyes tight and began forcing slow breaths in and out. As he breathed through the sick adrenaline pumping through his heart he took in his surroundings. There was an aching in his jaw and shoulder that brought the events of the previous night back to him. In his sleep affected haze he wondered if what he remembered was actually real. He unwound himself from the bedcovers and stepped out onto the cool wooden floorboards. Judging from the soft light touching his windowsill it was still early and the town beyond the still slumbering.

He opened his door stepping into the main bedroom. The young man lying curled up in covers on the bed was proof enough that the strange events of the night before had indeed happened. Dean watched him as he walked across the room to the bathroom to wash up. He could see Cas hadn't moved much in the night and with all the injuries he had Dean was grateful for that. He slipped into the ornate bathroom shutting the door silently behind him. Due to the state of their arrival the night before Dean had not noticed how nicely their rooms were furnished however it did make perfect sense.

Paying for a room for two had cost him dearly. Where normally he could afford the smallest, cheapest room in a hotel he and Cas had arrived on a night where the only available room with two separate beds had been the king suite. The luxurious sleeping quarters had cost him the next two days accommodation. There was nothing else to do but call Bobby and let him know they'd be a few days late. He combed his hair over after cleaning up and winked at his reflection. 

"You'll be late?!" Bobby exclaimed over the phone in the lobby Dean only narrowly pulling his head away in time to save his ear.

"Jesus Bobby yeah I'll be a few days late so what?" Dean spat back down the receiver. 

"Listen here kid you gotta get here and you gotta get here soon. I thought you were going to pick up some money on the way here anyway?" he replied.

"I was gonna get some from Shreveport but I'm not there yet and the rule is we don't pick up in towns this small. I'm just gonna have to hold up for a day or so and call Dad maybe he can wire me emergency cash or something" Dean explained.

"We got no time for that, look Dean new info has come to light in the last few days and we need those ingredients now. You're just gonna have to hit the town you're in" Bobby replied almost apologetic tones coming over the wire "You need the money more then they do trust me besides without these ingredients it'll be the least of their concerns" 

"Ok Bobby back up and tell me what the hell is going on. If I'm gonna be doing this town and speeding all the way to Chicago I wanna know why" Dean said voice low "What the hecks going on that could effect this town all the way from Chicago"

"It ain't a just a Chicago thing boy..." Bobby sounded exasperated before a sigh issued over the phone "Ok. I don't know if you've been keeping an eye out lately but the ghost hunting business has been booming"

"Dad has been pretty busy lately but I assumed it was just regular hunting not ghosts specifically" Dean thought out aloud "But so what?" 

"It's not just how many ghosts have been around. It's about how they've been acting. Normally you get a ghost or two when someone has died a nasty death and they wanna stick around and do some damage. Lately ghosts have been appearing in places where no ghost should be, haunting houses that no-one has died in, killing people with no connection to them. What's even more worrying is that there's been reported sightings of ghosts wondering around un-tethered"

It felt like something cold had slithered up Dean's spine.

"No bones or personal items?" Dean asked, intrigued. 

"None that could be located" Bobby replied "And these are hunter reports"

"Reputable?" Dean asked knowing the truthfulness of hunters was usually on the sketchy side. 

"Not all of them but Ellen sent in a report about it apparently Jo witnessed it on a hunt" Bobby said "Then there's Ash and Henricksen both in different states, both saw ghosts wondering around almost as if they were looking for something" 

"What?" Dean asked. 

"No idea"

"Shit" Dean swore "It doesn't make any sense, ghosts have patterns they don't break"

"Well kid these ghosts are. I'm still trying to iron out the details but my money is on some seriously dark magic" Bobby said ruefully. 

"Someone's controlling these spooks?" Dean said. 

"Maybe. One thing's for sure day by day the reports increase. If they continue at this rate I doubt we'll make it outside a month without ghosts overrunning the place" Bobby spoke concern betraying his time hardened hunters tone.

"Chicago?" Dean asked with a grim kind of hope.

"America" Bobby corrected him. Dean sighed regretfully knowing he had no choice.

"Fine. I'll get some here and make a beeline for New Orleans" Dean replied with conviction.

"So who is this kid you spent your money for anyway?" Bobby's voice sounded genuinely curious. Dean didn't blame him, he was curious too. 

"Don't know, I saved him from some red neck yahoo's that had beaten him half to death and looked intent on taking the other half" Dean began the story "Then drove to the next town. I was gonna leave him here and keep going but…" Dean paused thinking back to the bloody dirt stained face of his ward "You should've seen the state he was in"

"Well I know you wouldn't ignore an order from your father for nothing" Bobby commented "Do yourself a favor though and ditch him. I have a feeling this jobs gonna get pretty dangerous before too long. You'll have your hands full enough taking care of yourself"

"Yeah Bobby I know, I'll cut him loose" Dean replied wondering if the boy upstairs was awake yet "Hey how is Sam?"

"He's doing well, studying in town. He's looking forward to seeing you" Bobby replied warmth finally finding it's way into his voice and Dean grinned. 

"Well tell him I said hi. I'll be in contact soon" Dean said.

"You bet" Bobby replied and Dean hung up. 

He stood next to the phone for a moment or two thinking about his options. Hunter's often led penniless lives in the pursuit of protecting and saving people from monsters and things that went bump in the night. It had become commonplace in their profession to 'pick up' money from places like banks and big department stores. Hunters used this term so they could talk casually about it in public. They had even made it a habit to circulate floor plans and information about such places to make it easier for fellow hunters to clear out those places. The main Shreveport bank had been one such place with a floor plan Dean had studied and memorized the night before leaving home. 

He had chosen it specifically because of its ease of escape and the fact that doing it by himself would be viable. Though in a smaller town he now had to contend with being unaware of the layout, goings on in the banks and what kind of security they would use. It would have to be a fast and dirty job and Dean did not like that idea aside from the fact that picking up in small towns was frowned upon by hunters. To add an extra degree of difficulty he could not afford to be arrested and wait for bail either. 

Dean made his way back up to his room. As he opened the door he heard the sound of someone opening the window inside and paused. With one foot over the threshold he cautiously opened the door. There standing by the window, back to Dean was Cas. He was wearing a white singlet, tattered trousers and black socks. A large purple bruise was peaking out underneath the cloth stretching across his left should blade. The waste paper basket near the bathroom door caught Deans eye as out of its edges was limply hanging Cas's torn sweater and shirt. 

"So" he said the word sounding loud in the silence and Cas looked over his shoulder "Who are you?"

"My name is Castiel Novack" he replied turning to face Dean before glancing at his bandaged hands "Was it you who attended to my injuries?"

"Yeah, I was patching myself up so I figured I might as well do you too" Dean replied and the corners of Castiel's lips turned upwards slightly.

"Thank you" He said before his brows drew together "Why did you do this?"

"Well I can't really explain it" Dean replied moving into the room "but it's sort of what I do. It's my job"

"Rescue people from mobs?...Are you a police officer?" Castiel asked and Dean couldn't help but snicker.

"No. No way" Dean replied pondering for a moment over how he could explain his situation without giving away any supernatural information. Mostly hunters liked to keep their stories secret and away from the potentially panicky public "Since the war a lot of people's lives have been screwed to hell. By helping out sometimes I can make that situation a bit more bearable" Castiel's eyes narrowed but he didn't question the fact that Dean had not actually given him a full reply.

"Who were those guys last night?" Dean asked and immediately Castiel's gaze flicked to the floorboards. He had the expression of someone who had been caught stealing and was preparing for punishment. Dean waited for the answer but Castiel did not reply.

"Look dude you were the one who had the tar beat out of him last night, those other three just looked like red neck fucks" Dean said trying to reason with him.

"I cannot tell you what happened" Castiel said firmly.

"Why not?" Dean asked tone becoming sharp. He could still hear Caleb's fierce snarl in his mind "You're an abomination before God and you're gonna pay for what you did".

"I am sorry but I can't give you that answer" he said stare returning to Dean's, hard and earnest "You risked your life to save mine. I have no money or possessions to offer you as recompense. I am in your debt"

"Then tell me why they were going to kill you" Dean asked immediately.

"I will do anything but that" Castiel replied "Do not ask me again"

"Fine" Dean snapped and rounded the bed pushing past Castiel as he walked into his room. He began collecting his things and packing up. He knew he was going to have to hit the bank in a few hours and even though it was still early he had many things to do before he would be ready to take the place. "What are you going to do now?" he asked loudly as he checked his weapons where all still clean and accounted for.

"I cannot return home. I have cousins in Indiana that may be able to take me in. I'm going to call them today and ask if that would be possible" Castiel replied voice flat and Dean glanced through the half open door at Castiel. Dean saw a shiver run though him and halted his movements. The boy's face was downcast and he was rubbing his bandaged knuckles absentmindedly. Dean wondered how sore they would be.

"You in a hurry?" Dean asked scrounging through his bag and pulling out a fresh shirt.

"No" Castiel replied a curious tone finding it's way into his voice, "I am unsure of how to travel to Indiana. I have been trying to find a solution since I woke but none have come to mind"

Dean zipped up his bag and buckled his saddlebags. He tossed them over his shoulders, one shoulder aching from the action and he grit his teeth. He walked back into the main room dropping a shirt onto Castiel's hands.

"Good" he said as Castiel looked from the shirt to Dean "My name's Dean Winchester and we're gonna rob a bank"


	3. The Wild Bunch Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So Cas, what to do you know about bank robbery?” Dean asked.

The scales lining her flapper dress winked in the dim light as she sauntered down the corridor. The narrow space was murky with cigar smoke and the smell of whisky. At the end of the hallway a door waited lit by a single yellow globe. The plumes swirling through the air filtered its shine into a sepia glow and she came to a stop beneath it. From her glittering bag she retrieved a pocket watch. The black hands where pointed like spears reading 12:02. She snapped it closed and wrapped on the door three times. It swung in, pulled by a hefty doorman who eyed her before moving out of her way. 

Inside lay a small windowless room stacked with boxes on both sides. In the centre of the space was a table surrounded by men hunched over cards and crystal glasses of liquor. They where dressed in sharp dark suits some pinstriped, some plain, some blue, some black. Muffled jazz was winding its way around the room from a few floors up. She stepped inside and the door was closed behind her. 

"Evening Charlie" She said in hushed tones to the doorman, eyes firmly set on the card table "How's he doing?"

"Third game, second win Lucille" he replied leaning back against the wall arms crossed over his vast chest. 

"You're late" A rough voice carried from the table but none of the men moved their attention from the game. It was the kind of tone that suggested a lifetime of cigarettes and a lack of the sun. 

"I caught a hunter" She replied coolly and the man sitting closest to the door straightened up.

"Well alright, c'mere" He spoke holding one arm out expectantly. She rolled her eyes and gracefully walked over to him slipping her slight frame onto one of his legs, flashing her thighs to the table as she crossed one pin over the other. She slid an arm casually around his shoulders and leant the game a bored skim. 

"I was tracking Singer and caught this hunter in the process" She said checking his hand "He put up decent fight but I think he underestimated my capabilities" He chuckled. 

"O' coarse he did. Go on" he said placing down a royal flush much to the chagrin of the men around the table. One stood knocking his chair over as he did.

"Cole you murder'n cheatin low life-" He roared reaching into his coat and pulling out a gun. In the blink of an eye Lucille stood, snatched the gun from his hand and slapped him with the other.

"You behave now" she said an undertone of ferocity in her chiding words "Sit down"

"Aint no woman tell me what to do!" before he'd even finished his sentence Lucille stepped up onto the table and kicked him clear across the room and into some boxes. The other men gaped at him, as he lay dazed in the crumpled cardboard. Cole picked up his winnings and slid them into a pocket inside his jacket. He then stood and offered an open hand to Lucille who took it as she stepped down onto his chair and then the floor. 

"I possessed the hunter and uncovered a lot of useful information" she picked up their earlier conversation as if nothing had happened.

"Such as?" he said placing an arm around her back and turning her towards the door.

"Singer is more important then we first suspected. He is an information sharing point between most of the hunters in America as well as some in Asia and Europe" She explained.

"Jackpot" Cole commented.

"Absolutely" 

"Anything else?" 

"He has a nephew running some errands for him down in New Orleans" she said a playful glint in her cold eyes as they stopped at the door. 

"Really? We should introduce ourselves" Cole said thoughtfully, he looked up at the doorman "Charlie you missed dinner tonight, I'm awful sorry about that" he turned to the gangsters who where gathering their things nervously "Take it now"

"You got it Cole" Charlie replied grin gritting into sharp hidden teeth. Cole held the door open for Lucille and shut it behind them. 

The gurgling screams could scarcely be heard in the sepia hallway outside. 

* * *

The streets where near deserted save for a few early morning shoppers. This suited Dean's purpose perfectly as the less people there where the less trouble he would have at the bank. After their second drive around Dean was satisfied with his understanding of the walkways between the bank and where he intended to park the Indian. 

"Why are you singing?" Castiel asked over the sound of the Indian's rumbling engine. Dean finished out his rendition of Jailhouse Blues before answering as they drove down the main street in town.

"Why does anyone sing?" Dean asked, "Because it makes em feel good. Don't you sing?"

"No" Castiel replied loudly in a flat tone.

"Ok chuckles. You might wanna try it sometime" Dean said looking back and gesturing to his mouth "That and smiling" 

Dean turned his attention back to the road as he drove the bike up onto the curb. He couldn't help but notice he had yet to see his unwilling accomplice show any signs of happiness since their meeting. Even breakfast had been a silent solemn non-event. Dean wasn't entirely surprised with what he had gone through the night before but there was only so long Dean could go without speaking. 

"So Cas, what to do you know about bank robbery?" he continued.

"That it is wrong to do so" Castiel replied. 

Dean rolled his eyes guiding the Indian up what once was a driveway to the lot. On their way to breakfast the pair had been lucky enough to come across a scruffy overgrown piece of land, which upon closer inspection had given up an abandoned house. It rose out of the scrubs into view and Dean gave it a moment's admiration. The roof sagged, the windows where broken but it was a relic from an older more prosperous time. He brought the bike to a halt and turned his attention back to the street. The bushes where so thickly overgrown around the perimeter he could only see the tiniest hints of asphalt. 

He turned the Indian off and dismounted, Castiel following suit. He pushed the bike through the knee length grass and further onto the lot before turning it back to face the way they had come in "You know it's a good thing you're roughed up" Castiel's glare hardened.

"Why?" he asked sharply. 

"Because you're the biggest pencil pusher I've ever seen" Dean issued the dig with a smirk, tucking a small canvas bag under one arm before walking over to join Castiel "And the only way a person would see you as threatening is with a scrape or two" 

"I do not push pencils" He replied indignantly "I study science"

"Big leap" Dean dead panned untying his riding handkerchief from around his neck and tossing it to Castiel who narrowly caught it "You're about to be a bank robber too. Follow me" he added in a chipper tone as he forged through the bushes, pulling branches aside till he was back on the sidewalk.

"Are you usually given to this good attitude before robbing banks?" Castiel asked trying to dodge the branches that where flicking back in Dean's wake. 

"My granddad always said what's the point of robbing a bank if you're not gonna do it with a smile?" Dean replied.

"Because it's wrong to rob banks" Castiel said with a lowered tone "It's not something good people do" 

"Let me tell you right now Cas, people get way too bogged down in good or bad, right or wrong" Dean said checking the road for traffic before crossing "There's just everything in between"

"That is not what I was brought up to believe" Castiel disagreed following closely behind. 

"Well maybe you should try looking at things another way" Dean suggested. The sun hadn't quite warmed the concrete yet and the air felt cool on Dean's skin. He suspected it would be hot later but for now he buttoned up his jacket to the neck. They walked for a block in silence before turning off into an alleyway. 

"Ok" Dean said over his shoulder getting Castiel's attention "Take this" Dean dug into the canvas bag under his arm drawing out a sawn off shotgun and holding it out to Castiel. He stopped dead.

"I will not wield that Dean" Castiel said chin raised, distrust in his eyes. 

"First of all who says 'wield'? Second, Relax" Dean said opening the barrel to show Castiel the bullets "They're just rock salt shots. Real loud, sting like a motherfucker but sure as hell won't kill anyone"

Castiel eyed the weapon with contempt. 

"Trust me" Dean said snapping the barrel shut and putting it in Castiel's hands "Try to keep it hidden, hold it low and by your leg" Once Castiel was holding the gun correctly they moved on to the end of the alley. As they drew close to the mouth of the alley Dean lay against the wall edging close and peeking out from behind the corner. 

"Ok" Dean muttered to himself as he surveyed his surroundings then raised his voice "Put the handkerchief on over your nose like how they wear them in Westerns"

Castiel tied the cloth so it sat over the bridge of his nose, covering his face.

"You don't need one?" Castiel asked as Dean pulled his cap down low over his brow.

"Nah" Dean replied, "I don't need to worry about stuff like that"

After making sure there was no-one in the immediate space between the alley and the bank across the road Dean turned back to check Castiel was ready. The shotgun was resting low by his hip and the handkerchief was concealing every feature but his eyes still blackened with bruises. Dean couldn't help but admire how much like lowlife scum Castiel appeared. He snickered and patted him on the shoulder. 

"You look good. Here's what we are going to do"

* * *

The front door of the bank flew open cracking against the wall inside loudly enough to give the four tellers behind the counter a jolt. The cool morning air rushed into the room on the heels of two young men. The first leapt onto a desk in the middle of the room shotgun swinging up in a graceful arc to face the tellers one by one. Looks of fear, surprise and horror climbed across their features as the mussel faced each menacingly. Behind the shotgun guilty blue eyes and shaking hands went unnoticed. The other man moved smoothly around in front of the desk a chipper jolt in each step and a bag in hand.

"Morning!" Dean called out, bravado lacing though his confidant voice, "The name's Kid and my partner here is Cassidy, he don't talk much but don't worry about that. Stay calm, don't try to escape or call for help. Do what I say and this'll be over real soon. We clear?"

Subdued replies of understanding and unanimous nods where given. 

"Good" Dean crowed and as if in his element vaulted over the main counter and moved towards the first teller announcing "Draws open then everyone take a step back"

The first teller, a young woman, did as she had been asked. She was wearing a light blue dress and her hair was pinned up. Dean studied her charming visage tainted somewhat by her quakes of fear. 

"Don't be scared sister, we ain't here to hurt you, trust me we really need this money" Dean whispered conspiratorially as he casually scooped the money out of the draws, focus trained on her lovely features.

"You rats" she snapped at him voice revealing deep uncertainty "What could possibly be so important that you need all this money?"

Dean's shoulder muscles slackened and turned to the draw.

"With any luck you'll never know" he muttered grabbing the packets of money with both hands. 

"Kid" Castiel's voice growled and Dean's gaze shot up to note he was now kneeling on the desk head turned around to face the windows. He followed the gaze to see a police car cruising lazily by. He gulped.

"Everyone be quiet" Dean announced in a low tone and in spite of this every breath, every foot movement right down to the click of the clock on the wall seemed to screech out to the car. All the officer had to do was look up and see Castiel through the window and it would be over. Window by window the car continued to slide along until finally it vanished past the last pane of glass. Dean wiped his brow striding to the next draw.

"Good call Cas" Dean announced raking the money into his bag. Each small package fell landing amongst the others driving the price ever higher. 

"You're despicable" teller in the blue dress spat. Dean smirked winking in her direction.

"Better believe it" was his answer as he pulled the draw out of the till completely shaking it into the bag. His heart was thumping a quick beat into the bones of his ribcage and sweat was beginning to collect into beads on his temples. His expression remained relaxed, a state that did not change till he reached the third draw. 

There was a click and a breeze against Dean's neck. There standing frozen in the doorway of the bank was a man with a briefcase, hand still gripping the doorknob. His realization registered as his mouth fell open. 

"CAS!" Dean shouted and Castiel spun around as of yet unaware of the intruder on their criminal act. Before he could say another word the man was gone, sprinting down the street. 

"Shit" Dean swore to himself cramming the last of the money from the third till into his canvas bag. Castiel was turning wildly from the door to Dean, waiting for instruction. 

"You've been an excellent establishment, thank you for the cash" Dean said scrambling back over the counter. The moment his feet hit the polished floor the far off sound of sirens split the air.

"C'mon Cassidy!" Dean shouted bolting to the door and throwing it open, Castiel leapt down behind him. The moment they hit the sidewalk they could see the same police car that had been cruising along before barreling down the street towards them. Further in the distance the man with the suitcase could be seen pointing wildly in their direction. On another day Dean might have found this display of over exaggerated gesturing amusing. 

Castiel made to run across the street and Dean grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him back. 

"Dean we must go!" Castiel snarled shoving at the fist that held him still.

"Wait" Dean commanded the car speeding ever closer. 

"Dean!" Castiel snapped finally ripping the fist from his shirt.

"Wait!" Dean held his hand out fingers spread wide. The frame of the car creaked, the wheels shuddered as the breaks where initiated and the passenger door clicked open.

"NOW!" Dean roared and the two bolted across the road feet slamming the pavement as they flew. Dean's knuckles where white, hand clenching against the canvas bag as it swung back and forth. They raced into the tiny alleyway they had come from whilst far behind the police car could be heard starting up again. 

"What were you thinking?" Castiel growled through hard breaths as the pelted down the shadowy narrow alleyway. 

"That car was a Ford Model A, my dad fixed one last year. They take ages to speed up" Dean replied as they flew into the sunlight on the other side of the alley "I had to stall it so it wouldn't get onto this street before then us!"

The pair bolted down one block, knocking a bookstand over and narrowly missing an old lady and her grocery shopping bags. As Castiel tried to maneuver around her he lost his balance hitting the concrete hard. Dean heard him fall but kept running, knowing he had to get to the bike. Castiel scrambled back to his feet while Dean was now well ahead. The police car sirens grew louder and without looking back Dean knew they had turned the corner and found their way to the street. Clutching the bag to his chest he sprinted across the street, launching himself into the trees of the overgrown block Indian coming into view. It glinted cherry red in the sun. 

"C'mon, C'mon, C'mon" Dean begged nearly bowling the bike over as he mounted it and began cranking it to life. As the sirens grew louder Dean felt panic creeping up his spine. Finally with a loud clicking and clunking the bike came to life. Dean pushed it into first and drove it out onto the street just as Castiel stepped off the asphalt and onto the sidewalk. Dean threw the canvas bag to him and he caught it, jumping onto the back of the Indian. His arm whipped around Dean's front and Dean gunned the engine. 

"STOP!" the officer in the passenger side of the police vehicle shouted out the window as the car bore down on the bike. Dean spun the back wheel out sliding the bike narrowly around the grill of the car and accelerated down the street, every bystander's head's spinning to watch the bike shoot by. 

"C'mon baby we gotta fly!" Dean begged pushing it harder then he had before, knowing that while slow to start the Ford would out pace them on a long straight road. The engine gave a mighty roar and Dean felt Castiel grip him tighter. The thought that Castiel might not have been on speeding bike fully conscious before flitted though Dean's mind as fingers clenched hard into his leather jacket. He gave his review mirror a split second look. In it's tiny reflection he could see the police car had already turned around and was now gaining ground. The shops rapidly grew smaller and fewer till they where amongst the trees of the countryside. 

"Dean they're catching up!" Castiel shouted over the sound of the bellowing engine and the wind blasting past them. 

"I know!" Dean shouted, he paused thinking for a moment "Shoot at them!"

Castiel drew out Dean's sawn off shotgun and crammed the bag of money into the small space between them. He cocked the gun and twisted his body around at the waist taking aim. When the police car did not stop he fired off a few rounds. The car swerved sluggishly left and right narrowly missing the shots. The policemen did not seem to notice the salt dissipating into the wind. A moment later one of the officers had leaned his shoulder out of the window aiming his own revolver at them. 

"SWERVE" Castiel ordered and Dean immediately began ducking and dodging the Indian left and right. The policeman fired missing as the bike made a dizzy beeline of the road. After half a dozen shots they gave up, the policeman sinking back into the car, retuning instead to their earlier attempts of catching the bike. Dean watched them speed into ramming range. One hard nudge from the bumper bar and they would be run off the road. Dean eyed the trees that littered the edge of the road for the next mile. 

"Drop a grand!" Dean bellowed back to Castiel. 

"What?!" Castiel exclaimed. 

"Open some money packets and throw them at the windscreen!" Dean ordered as the bumper bar nipped the back wheel "NOW!" Castiel's hand plunged into the canvas bag between them, ripping out some packets and tossing the little stacks of money at the windscreen of the car behind them. The bundles exploded out into the air dashing against the windscreen, blotting out any view the police would have them. The car came to a screeching stop. 

"It worked Dean! It worked!" Castiel shouted watching the furious policemen leap out of the car, completely powerless to catch them.

"YEAH TAKE THAT YOU SONS OF BITCHES!" Dean roared with triumph. He couldn't remember another time when he'd felt such a sheer unadulterated sense of victory "YES!!!" he punched the air, blue sky and sunlight mixing around his fist "YES!"

* * *

The Indian sailed down the freeway occasionally passing other cars and motorbikes. The adrenaline and verve driving them on ever faster before had now seeped out during the long hours that passed since their narrow escape from the police. Dean brought the Indian to down to a gentle 30mph. Castiel in turn relaxed his vice like grip around Dean's middle and was sitting back. Dean had even seen his hand reach out to feel the wind pressing into his palm and flutter through his sleeves. 

"This is a pleasant sensation" Castiel commented.

"Yeah, it's not bad" Dean agreed, his stomach giving a loud groan. Dean checked the sun's position suspecting they had been on the road for at least 7 hours without stopping "Hey are you hungry? Cause I could eat" 

"Yes" Castiel replied pointing to the end of the road "There's a town" Dean stared at it through his glasses. It looked to be very small town with scarcely more then a few streets off the main strip. It was perfect.

"Good" Dean said pulling the Indian off the main road and into the brush. Once the road was masked by distance and trees Dean switched the Indian off.

"What are we doing?" Castiel asked as Dean climbed off the bike.

"We have to change" Dean answered opening his duffle bag "If we change our clothes and cover up the Indian signature here," he said pointing to the gas tank on the motorbike before laying his jacket over it "We'll be less recognizable. Gotta be careful since Hoover's got G-men chasing people over state lines. If we hold up in this town for the night I think the heat'll be off enough to keep going in the morning. We'll have to keep a low profile from when we arrive though" Castiel nodded in agreement tucking the canvas bag deep into the duffle bag. Dean slipped his suspenders off his shoulders. 

"Do you propose I borrow more of your clothing?" Castiel asked checking inside Dean's duffle bag.

"Yeah, grab whatever you want" Dean replied hanging his cap off the bike handle "In fact you can keep what you wear. I'm gonna buy new clothes when we get to town anyway" 

Dean stared out at the landscape breathing deep the afternoon air as he stripped off his shirt. The warm scent of pollen and wheat filled his nose and Dean let out a deep contented breath. Around them the green plants moved softly in the breeze conjuring up memories of a childhood passed and a land untouched by drought. He pulled a fresh shirt on, then grabbed his suspenders flicking them back over his shoulders. He turned to the Indian glancing at Castiel who was tucking his shirt. 

"If they have sent out a description of us it's probably gonna feature your hair and my face" Dean commented while Castiel began folding the cuffs up his arms. Dean picked his hat up and dropped it onto Castiel's crown "I want that back. They're also gonna be looking for two guys on a bike"

"How should we proceed?" Castiel asked straightening Dean's cap. 

"I'll drop you by the road once we're closer to town and you can walk in" Dean replied reaching into his bag and drew out some money. He held the package out to Castiel who stared at it for a long moment before taking it and sliding it into his pocket. 

"Small towns like this usually only have one hotel. I'm going to head there and get a room. You should probably find somewhere to eat and grab some clothes if you can; if I don't see you in town come to the hotel and ask for Mr. Patton" Dean explained pushing the Indian back towards the road as he did so "And hey, leave your old pants out here" Dean added nodding to the scuffed up pair folded under Castiel's arm "They stick out like a sore thumb" 

"Very well. I'll meet you on the road" Castiel said returning to where they had changed. Dean eyed him inquisitively as he pushed the bike forward. Castiel came to a halt amongst the long grass and trees. He pulled the pants out from under his arm and rested his palm flat on the folded fabric. Dean paused. The wind brushed past Castiel's still figure. He knelt placing the pants on the ground and Dean turned away before Castiel could see him watching. 

* * *

Dean reclined reading on his bed, head and shoulders on pillows propped up against the headboard. The book rested on one knee and Dean played with the edge of the page as he read. He wasn't generally enthralled by reading books and when Sam had sent him 'The Maltese Falcon" for Christmas a few months previously he was doubtful he'd ever get through it. In spite of this he decided to bring it along on the trip. After wondering around the tiny town for a few hours, eating dinner and heading an unsuccessful search for Castiel he returned to his hotel room and pulled the book from his bag. 

Dean had become completely absorbed in the story and was over halfway through when there came a knock on his door. Dean grumbled at the sound loathed to leave the story. 

"Who is it?" He shouted reading on.

"Castiel" Came a soft familiar call. Dean got up and crossed the room book still in hand and unlocked the door swinging it in. Castiel inclined his head in an appreciative nod and walked into the room carrying a postman's bag and a couple of bottles of coke. Dean frowned staring at the bag.

"I guess the postman had it coming?" He asked shutting the door and locking it. Castiel frowned at Dean as he set the bag down on the table. 

"I got it from a charity shop along with these" he said opening the bag to reveal several folded clothes. Castiel gave Dean one of the coke bottles and a bottle opener as he passed him on his way back to the bed. 

"Thanks" He said as he set the book down on the bedside table and sat down on the bed "Did you eat?"

"Yes I had a chicken soup at Patty's Diner" Castiel answered "and you?"

"Burger at the same joint" Dean said the coke giving a fizzy hiss at the lid clicked off "Hey I was around town for a few hours and didn't run into you, where were you?" he asked tossing the opener to Castiel who caught it in one hand. He stared down at it thoughtfully. He turned to his bag. 

"Church" Castiel replied pulling a sock from his new belongings. 

"You're a Christian?" Dean asked curiously taking a swig of the sweet dark cola. Castiel opened his own coke back to Dean, head downcast. Dean watched this display with interest. It wasn't until he placed the opener onto the table and turned back to Dean that he saw Castiel's ashen expression. The young man moved to the sideboard on which rested Dean's duffel bag. 

"I would rather not discuss it," He said solemnly lifting it and bringing it over to Dean placing it on the bed between them as he sat down on the beds edge "Can we divide the money?" 

"Sure" Dean said sitting up and pulling the bag closer. As he dug the smaller canvas bag out from under his clothes he stole glances of his companion. His brow was furrowed and he was tracing the surface of the bottle with his index finger lost in thought. Dean caught himself staring, movements almost completely halted, he quickly shrugged off the state and brought his attention back to the task at hand. 

"I called my cousins when I was at Patty's tonight and they have decided to take me in" Castiel said as Dean counted out the money.

"That's great" Dean said though he saw a distinct lack of cheer in Castiel "Are you gonna tell your folks where you're going?"

"No not for a while. My father…" Castiel searched for the words "My father will not understand" 

"You still don't wanna tell me what happened?" Dean asked dolling out the bills into two piles, the flicking of paper keeping the room from silence "After tomorrow we'll probably never see each other again" 

From the corner of his eye Dean could see Castiel's chin angled towards him. He shifted under the gaze held on him, so intense and focused. The boys that had grown up in his town tended to be boisterous, searching for action and escape to bigger brighter places while Castiel remained reserved quiet and discomforted. Dean grew surer that the truth behind Castiel's fight was of a sinister nature. Yet in spite of this he was not unsure of the boy's company. If anything he had a strange suspicion that he would not forget Castiel or the last 24 hours no matter how strained and bizarre. 

"No" Castiel replied finally, "I will not" Dean nodded meeting Castiel's gaze. 

"Alright" He said pushing one of the two piles of money he had made towards Castiel "We stole $2,345 after the grand or so we tossed at the cop car. This is your half, you can double count it if you want"

"That won't be necessary" Castiel replied picking up the pile of cash, folding it in half and inserting it into the sock.

"So what are you going to do with it?" Dean asked settling back against the headboard.

"I'll use it to get to Indiana. Then to pay board to my cousins and my tuition at school" Castiel answered sliding the sock into his pocket.

"No wild nights, birds or booze?" Dean sighed shaking his head "You're a saint dude"

Castiel let out a quiet snort and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

"You are a strange man Dean" he said holding the almost-smile.

"Right back at ya Cas" Dean said holding out his bottle, neck inclined towards Castiel who mirrored the action clinking the glass together. 

"So what are you gonna do tonight?" Dean asked after another swig. 

"There is no more I am interested in doing around town so I will stay in" Castiel replied "I have taken the room next door and intend to leave for Indiana in the morning. You?"

"Same. They don't even have a cinema here" Dean complained snatching the Maltese Falcon up, "I'm reduced to reading books" 

"I have never been to a cinema" Castiel said gulping down the remainder of his drink. 

"What?" Dean spluttered, "You're kidding right?"

"No. My home town did not have one" Castiel said, "I have often wondered what it must be like" 

"Well I sure as hell ain't gonna ruin it" Dean replied with a snort "Go the next chance you get"

"I will" Castiel replied and then with a little start he reached up pulling Dean's cap from his head and held it out to Dean "Returned as you requested"

Dean nodded in thanks tossing it onto the lamp by his bed. 

"Well I suppose I should get some sleep" Castiel sighed massaging his temples tiredly "I won't keep you from you're book any longer"

"Yeah" Dean agreed the night terror creeping back into his thoughts "Barely got any sleep last night either" 

Castiel stood sluggishly and took a slow lope over to collect his things from the table. Dean stood and headed to the door unlocking it. 

"Well Cas" Dean said rubbing the back of his neck unsure of what the customary farewell to a rescue-partner-in-crime-of-one-days-acquaintance was "It was nice working with you" Castiel joined him at the door. He held out his hand to Dean and Dean took it in a firm handshake. 

"It was a pleasure to meet you Dean" Castiel replied scarcely missing a beat "I am deeply grateful for your help"

"Anytime man, anytime" Dean replied as Castiel's hand slipped out of his.

* * *

In the dead of the night Dean turned in his sleep unconsciously pulling his blankets closer around him. His slow breaths came out in puffs of white smoke. He could not hear the muffled sound of the radio in the lobby switching on and dialing up and down erratically. The dim light flashed a racing pulse unable to rouse him. Ice forked across the window in beautiful patterns blanking out the glass with frost. In the corner of the room a figure flickered into existence, zapping in and out of sight, watching Dean with cold blank eyes.


	4. Single Barrel Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A palm slapped against his neck slamming him back into the wall. The ghost dragged him up by his neck tightening his grip. Dean struggled against the phantom arms but could not touch his assailant. He tried pushing against the wall with his feet but could gain no leverage or purchase against the wallpaper. He tried to shout, the wispiest cry escaping with the last of his breath.

Ch 3: Single Barrel Whiskey 

_  
The broken body dies under her skilled hands, too far gone to retrieve. She scarcely pauses, only long enough for an unheard whisper of regret before moving on to the next. Some she saves some she looses all the while the cold tent is a mess of moans and cries. In her mind she thinks of him; his face, his eyes, his smile and it drives her on. Her lips harden into a straight line, teeth grit behind._

_The man she works on now is one of a higher rank, she can tell by the way the way he fiercely holds his composure and regards the other men. Echoes from a mine have split his leg and the shrapnel still bites into much of his skin. He is in shock and she is glad for it. With a violent jerk he turns to her as if he remembers something._

_"They're coming!" he wheezes voice ragged and fighting for each moment "Intercepted transmission…attack on base…evacuate…EVACUATE!"_

_Before she can react she hears the sound of war not far and away but close. Too close. Trucks screech through the tents a hail of bullet fire pattering across canvass and through sleeping quarters. She screams as people duck to the ground holes peppering the operating tent. She thinks of her children holding their bright faces in her mind._

_Nurses and doctors alike leap to cover and protect patients. She pulls herself to her feet gripping the gurney with quivering hands and pushes it with all her might. Around her her colleges do the same all with the aim to get as many patients away from danger as possible._

_She is the first out into the night. As she pushes him she sees the boy from earlier in the night standing across the compound, watching her, bandage wrappings hanging from his body. Their eyes meet. In this moment he seems bizarrely familiar._

_His face contorts to a horrified cry_

 

* * *

Dean felt icy fingers stab into his chest and woke with a yelp. His shoulder twisted back away from the digits banging into the wall. The hands returned gripping him by the shirt and with a mighty throw sent him flying across the room. He hit the far wall of his hotel room then connected with the ground chest first. The air rushed out of him and he struggled for breath lungs unwilling to inhale. His shock and confusion folded under his hunter instincts and he pushed his upper body up to check the bed. There standing in it was a tall pale man dressed in an army uniform. He zapped in and out of sight and Dean's hands scraped into fists. 

Dean looked wildly around for his bag gasping at the air knowing he had to get salt. He spotted the duffle bag in the corner and pushed himself to his feet. He scrambled towards it pulse hammering in his eardrums. He made three steps before an unseen force beat him back into the sideboard. His forearm snapped against the wood and he roared clutching it. He reached for the door beside him hoping to get salt elsewhere only to find the handle ridged and locked. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek and he turned his head to face the seemingly empty room. 

A palm slapped against his neck slamming him back into the wall. The ghost dragged him up by his neck tightening his grip. Dean struggled against the phantom arms but could not touch his assailant. He tried pushing against the wall with his feet but could gain no leverage or purchase against the wallpaper. He tried to shout, the wispiest cry escaping with the last of his breath. 

Spots began to appear in front of Dean's eyes, strain burning through his lungs and pressure building in his head. Dean felt vibrations in the wall against his clammy back but could not tell where they where coming from. A tear of pain, fear and breathlessness escaped as he stared down at his ghoulish attacker. 

"You will not take me alive!" The ghost snarled in a long unused voice. He felt movement next to his side and a loud bang like wood breaking. 

"DEAN!" a shout called and Dean helplessly searched through the fog to see Castiel standing just inside the door. Dean tried to shake his head and say 'no run' but all that escaped was a nasal 'gnnng'. Castiel's head whipped around to Deans duffle and ran to it. A foggy sense of regret and the faces of Dean's loved ones swam through his mind. Castiel turned on his heal and barreled towards the ghost brandishing an object over his head and swung it at the ghost intent on knocking him out. 

At the moment of contact the ghost blew away in a groaning spiral of ash leaving Dean to fall into Cas who without the body to stop him fell forward. Dean gasped for air coughing violently, body tingling and shivering with returning feeling. Blood thumped in his ears as Castiel lowered them to the floorboards staring around. 

"Where-" Castiel managed to get out "Where did he go?"

"Gone" Dean wheezed out from his position on his back. Castiel's attention finally focused on him. 

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked hand finding its spot on the point between Dean's neck and shoulders "Dean?"

"Yea-" Dean coughed "water" Castiel nodded briskly disappearing for a moment from Dean's sight then retuned with a glass. He held the glass out to Dean who heaved himself up to sit against the wall before taking it in one quaking hand. He lifted it to his lips and swallowed it carefully, flinching from the sore muscles in his throat. He surveyed the room noticing the door was sagging open, hinges sitting on shattered wood. 

"D'you-?" He asked before taking a few more breaths "D'you kick the door down?"

Castiel reviewed the door.

"Yes" he answered, "I heard the struggle as I was leaving" Dean noticed the postman's bag lying in the hallway "you would not reply and the door was locked." 

"Pencil pusher" Dean said the word with a husky impressed tone. Castiel scowled. 

"Was this a prank Dean? Because I did not find it amusing" Castiel snapped back "I thought you were going to die." Dean held one hand up defensively, understanding that Castiel was in need of an explanation for the attacker and Deans nonchalance. 

"No prank" Dean answered taking another sip of water "This doesn't come from nothing." he continued gesturing to the angry red marks under his collar.

"What was that?" Castiel asked demandingly "Judging from your lack of concern I can only surmise that you know." Dean stared down at the iron spanner still gripped tightly in his companion's right hand. 

"Lucky" Dean said as he used the wall to push himself to his feet. He stood for a moment or two finding his balance and went over to his duffle bag leaving Castiel to his perplexity on the floor "You sure you want an explanation?" 

"Of course" Castiel answered gazing back to where the ghost had been. Dean pulled out his riding scarf and wrapped it around his neck to hide the bruises. 

"Alright. Where were you headed?" Dean asked throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder wincing from his complaining muscles. 

"The greyhound bus station. It's outside town." Castiel replied as he stood "Why?" 

"I'll give you a ride" Dean answered crossing the room "We need to talk outside town." He got three steps before one of his legs failed him and he stumbled. Castiel reached out a hand steadying him. 

"Perhaps we should walk" Castiel suggested "Until you can breathe easily again."

"I'm fine" Dean said and after a moment Castiel withdrew his hand and walked out scooping up his bag from the floor. Dean headed for the stairs leading down to the lobby. He checked the window at the top of the stairs surveying the street for any police but aside from the occasional country town citizen the streets were empty. A moment later Castiel brushed past him to walk in front, surreptitiously keeping an eye on him. 

"I'm fine" Dean said sharply as they descended the stairs. As they came to the first landing the light from the window above passed over Castiel's face. He gave Dean a concerned glance and Dean's mouth fell open.

"Stop" 

Castiel halted mid-step and Dean hurried down closing the space between them. He pulled Castiel back into the light. 

"What?" Castiel asked. Dean leaned closer examining the injuries he'd dressed on the boys face days before. 

"The black eyes are almost gone" Dean said squinting "And the cuts around your face are nearly healed too." Castiel looked down and if Dean didn't know better he'd say he was embarrassed. 

"I have always healed quickly", Castiel said promptly pulling away from Dean and continuing down the stairs "Ever since I was young." 

"It's impossible" Dean replied following closely after trying to get another look at Castiel's injuries "Those were some of the worse black eyes I've ever seen and your lip was broken." he reached up to run his hand along the graze on his ear; far from nearly healed it stung unappreciatively. 

"I have always healed quickly" Castiel repeated speeding his decent of the stairs "Lets us leave it at that."

"Let-us-leave-it-at-that" Dean mimicked him as they reached the lobby "Who taught you English?"

Castiel marched through the lobby to the exit and opened the door. 

"Hey Cas wait" Dean called "I gotta ask the clerk a few questions yet." 

* * *

Dust kicked up from the wheels of the Indian onto Dean's shoes as he pushed it along the side of the road next to Castiel. They passed the last store in town heading towards the bus stop at the end of the main road. His mind lingered between the fresh morning air and the hotel. He was glad they had the money to pay damages and Dean had pleaded violent sleepwalking, a lie that had brought a twitch of a smile to Castiel's lips. He had quietly tried to ascertain the ghost's story from the clerk to see if he could put it to rest but to no avail. No one matching the man's description had died in the small town and Dean resolved to call Bobby about the attack when he got to New Orleans.

"We are alone" Castiel commented glancing behind them to check one last time. Dean gave a nod and came to a halt flicking out the kickstand. Dean let out a sigh and prepared the story that all hunters had to tell from time to time in their lives. The truth about the world. 

"Ghosts are real," He said without reserve letting the idea sink into Castiel "So are a lot of monsters. Pretty much every scary story you were told as a kid is real somewhere in the world." 

"That's not possible", Castiel replied with the tone of a person who was undeterred by seemingly ridiculous statements "If monsters and ghosts where real and dangerous people would know about them." 

"Most people don't know about monsters because hunters keep them at bay or the creeps die. If a victim escapes from an attack and lives to tell the tale they are labeled insane" Dean replied thinking back to all those people he'd visited in hospitals and mental wards to find the truth "So no-one believes them." 

"Why would these hunters keep such information to themselves?" Castiel asked.

"They don't want to ruin peoples lives. Living in the world with monsters ain't a party I can promise you that." Dean answered and Castiel pondered in silence for a moment. 

"You are a hunter." he said more of a statement then a question. 

"Yeah" Dean answered reaching into his saddlebag to pull out his petrol bottle "It's kind of a family business. My dad and mum where hunters, their parent's where hunters. We find what goes bump in the night and kill it" Castiel put his hands on his hips and stared down the road as if he didn't really know what to say. 

All in all the boy seemed to be taking it pretty well. Dean had seen grown men crack over the notion that the thing that attacked them wasn't a sick hallucination but a real creature. He'd seen women accept the idea as if it where the most natural thing in the world. This boy was taking it in much the same manner he seemed to take most things, with thought and silence. Sometimes Dean felt like the boy was a million miles away and back in seconds. Dean screwed the lid back onto his petrol bottle and slipped it into his saddlebag.

"When I came into your room and swung the wrench at that man he disappeared" Castiel reasoned out loud his gaze on Dean once more "Was he a ghost?"

"Yes. Ghosts are repelled by iron and salt and my spanner is made of iron." Dean explained patting his saddlebags where the spanner rested, "To completely get rid of a ghost you have to appease it or if it can't be satisfied salt and burn its remains." 

"I see" Castiel said gradually, belief and understanding creeping into his previously skeptical position. Dean noticed Castiel was staring at him at length and looked away. As he did so he saw the bus in the distance driving out of town and down their road. He looked back to Castiel but before he could speak Castiel said "Where are you going Dean?" 

"Cas the bus is coming." Dean said jabbing his thumb over his shoulder in its direction.

"I know, I can see it." Castiel replied eyes not wavering from their hold on Dean. Dean let out a small growl; he had been hoping to save Castiel from hearing where his journey was headed. 

"I'm going to New Orleans to get some voodoo items, then Chicago to see my uncle and brother." Dean replied. The creaking bus rattled down the road growing closer and for the first time Dean really took stock of his companion. 

The boy was watching him gently. His eyes seemed too blue as the sky reflected on their surface, clouds traveling over them. His posture was loose and relaxed arms hanging by his sides and there was a strange kind of trust in that. The wind played at his disheveled hair dropping it over his forehead and Dean had the impulse to push it back. He realized in an unexpected moment of clarity that he did not want to say goodbye to this boy. That he didn't feel like making the drive alone. 

"Dean", Castiel said and licked his dry lips before continuing, "I would like to see New Orleans." Dean opened his mouth to speak then closed it disbelief overriding his words. He tried twice more before managing the question.

"Why would you want to come with me?" Dean asked, genuinely at a loss for the answer. 

"You think I will be a burden" Castiel said flatly reading reluctance in Dean's shock.

"No" Dean replied thinking of all the trouble they'd landed in together "Look, travelling with hunters is dangerous. In the last 48 hours we've robbed a bank, been shot at, I was nearly strangled and you ganked a ghost."

"I am aware" Castiel replied "I am alive, you are alive and I believe the count for rescue thus far is even." face tilting ever so slightly to one side. Dean realized Castiel was goading him. He felt a smile tingle across his cheeks.

"This is what you want?" Dean asked once more and Castiel replied with a slow sure nod. As he did so the bus flew by Castiel who didn't even bat an eye.

"Fine" Dean said with a smirk swinging one leg over his bike "Two rules"

"Yes?" Castiel asked. 

"Stow the tin ear and don't bug the driver" Dean said revving the engine. Castiel hesitated.

"I…have no tin ears" he said over the sound of the engine. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Just get on"  
* * *

They had been on the road for 4 hours when Dean caught sight of them in the distance. At first he thought the might be some kind of bushes with white flowers and red but as he drew nearer the reality hit. He swore under his breath and pulled over to the side of the road.

"What is it?" Castiel asked.

"Nothing", Dean said hopping off the bike, keeping his tone light "Stay here for a moment I gotta check something out."

As he crossed the road and came to the edge of the hill that led down from the freeway the surreal sight before him struck him hard. The sun was shining, the smell of pollen was in the air and the wind was blowing across the field moving the grass. White bloodied shapes littered the beautiful sight and Dean took a slow deep breath, his throat aching, before descending the hill. 

He couldn't help the human feeling of repulsion that seeped into him as he approached the nearest shape. Around it the grass was grey and dead as Dean was sure it was around all the bodies. He knelt to rip up a piece and examined it to be sure human hands had not tampered with it. He found no traces of poison, pressure, lack of water or anything else that would cause the vegetation death. Stealing himself one last time he looked up. 

The body inches from him was so torn up it was hard to believe it was ever a cow. He had never seen a sight quite like it. All of the cattle in the paddock had been mutilated by some supernatural force. Dean stood straightening his back and forcing himself to think. Bad omens weren't uncommon but usually one animal, sometimes two, would be slaughtered. A whole paddock made Dean's skin crawl. He walked up the hill body half facing the field at all times a deep sense of disquiet filling him. He reached the top and crossed the road glad for the height difference between the road and the field. 

"Dean your face is pale." Castiel commented as Dean threw his leg over the bike and cranked it to life. He stared at the far edge of the road that concealed the gore below. 

"Got a bit sick from the…" he gestured to his throat "Choking. I'm ok. Only a few more hours till New Orleans."

As he drove away, being sure to keep his distance from the scene, he was glad for the warm weight leaning against his back. 

* * *

It took Dean some hours to put the horrific sights he'd seen into the back of his mind along with the other things being a hunter left in him. The idea that the omen had been so prominent had remained with him until he saw the first light. 

After the sun set Dean had begun to worry that New Orleans was further away then he had anticipated. The city had proven him wrong rising out of the darkness, endless stretches of street lamps coaxing them in. The Indian wove lazily through the traffic as Dean and Castiel's heads followed the sights. Music poured out from doorways and windows as if the city itself breathed music. People shuffled back and forth far from ready to go home, most getting out of cabs and greeting the waking night with cheer and chatter. Dean had been shocked out of his awestruck daze when he nearly ran clear into a car making a turn. 

"Watch where you're going!" The driver snarled out the window but all Dean could do in reply was stare back adoringly at the white wash tires and sleek black and silver frame as it drove away.

"That's a V16 Cadillac!" Dean shouted back to Castiel over the sounds of horns. Castiel shook his shoulder and leaned close to his ear. 

"That is wonderful Dean, may we move out of oncoming traffic?" 

Dean gave a jerk of a nod before zipping the Indian back into action and down the street. 

"Where does this Rufus live?" Castiel asked distractedly as he stared at the signs encrusted in blinking lights. 

"Not far from here." Dean replied turning off the main strip and passing into the tiny back streets beyond. From the modern pastel four and five story buildings terraces bloomed marking the city with a French signature. Arcs of twisted metal that looked like vines framed the many terraces where people where laughing and talking. It was a warm night, perfect to be out on the town. 

"Strange" Castiel murmured. Dean registered the tone of awe in his voice. 

"Have you ever been to a big city?" Dean asked when a large house drew in front of their view of the final terrace. 

"No I never left my home town before." 

"Never?!" Dean exclaimed. While he had little experience with travel he had still been on some hunts with his father out of town and to Chicago once to see Bobby. Somehow during the trips the details of those foreign places had been lost in the rush of the hunt. 

"No" Castiel answered, "You might say my family are dedicated to small town life." 

Dean made a right at a quiet street, the Indian bumping over the steel tram tracks as they went. Halfway down the street Dean pulled up into the driveway of a double story house dimly lit by the streetlamps outside. He shoved the kickstand out and switched the bike off. 

"Ok Cas, Rufus is a grumpy bastard and an old friend of my Dads and Uncles. Just be polite and let me do the talking." Dean explained hopping off the Indian. 

"Should we bring our bags in?" Castiel asked dismounting the bike while Dean was riffling through his saddlebags.

"No, we don't know if he'll let us stay, or if we'll be here long enough." Dean replied locating the small wooden box with an 'ah-ha'. He glanced up at Castiel, the bad omen reappearing in his mind. He placed the box onto the seat of the Indian and reached back into his bag. Inside the saddlebags he located a pouch where he kept trinkets and knickknacks. Castiel watched curiously as he fastened the flap back over the saddlebag and nodded to the house "Lets go"

Castiel moved to walk up the path. Dean strode up behind bumping into him with a quiet 'sorry' and then fell into step with his companion. Castiel did not notice the small pentagram Dean dropped into his pocket. It was rare Dean was able to use his pick pocketing techniques for good. The pair followed the narrow concrete path from the shed up to the porch of the house and the front door. Dean gave it three hard wraps. 

"Rufus!" Dean called out. When no reply came he banged harder on the door "It's Dean!" 

"Dean who?" came a gruff reply from inside the house. 

"Dean Winchester!" Dean replied glaring at the door for lack of having the man himself "Single Barrel Whiskey still in the box." There was a long pause and then the sound of locks clicking and clacking resounded through the wood. Dean let out an annoyed sigh as the door opened to show a disheveled older black man. Dean held up the box.

"Aint you two a sorry sight." He commented taking the box. Dean inspected himself and Cas releasing they had been dusted with a layer of dirt from the road. 

"You ain't exactly so smooth yourself." he replied whacking down his jeans to shake the dust free, Castiel doing the same.

"Yeah well shut up n get in here. You're daddy'd kill me if I left ya on the street." Rufus replied stepping out of the doorframe and Dean and Castiel filed in. 

"Who's the kid?" He asked of Castiel as he shut the door.

"This is Castiel, Castiel – Rufus" Dean gestured to each of them and Castiel held out his hand. Rufus stared at it and after giving Castiel a soft glare moved on into the house. Castiel looked to his hand and then to Dean, who gave him a shrug.

"He's my friend." Dean added following Rufus into the cluttered living room of the house. 

"He a hunter?" Rufus asked as he broke the lid off the whisky box on a table near his fireplace. 

"No, but he knows about us." Dean replied as he gazed around at the odd living room. The room held all the hallmarks of a normal life with a large couch, bookcases, coffee table and picture frames. However it was as if had all become stagnated under piles of papers, artifacts, weapons and pictures stuck to the walls. Dean drew close to the wallpaper of the wall behind the couch and in it's surface he recognized thousands of tiny holes from pins.

"Good, I don't waste time on pedestrians", Rufus said slumping down into a chair with a glass of his freshly opened whiskey "What does Bobby want?" Dean handed him the list and after putting on some glasses Rufus read through it. 

"There's some seriously bad mojo going on in America and he wants to be prepared. Plus on the way here I saw-" Dean began before remembering Castiel and kept the explanation vague "a bad omen"

"Uh-huh" Rufus said without looking up from the small piece of paper "What was it?" Dean gave Castiel an innocent smile before moving over to Rufus and saying under his breath

"A herd of cow mutilations" 

"Whoo" Rufus whistled glancing at Dean over his glasses "That is serious. Bobby know bout that?"

"I haven't told him yet" Dean answered apprehensively allowing Rufus a hint of his concern. 

"Well wait till we've got these" Rufus said flicking the list with his fingers "I know where to get this stuff. We gotta go see a hoodoo man in town"

"Ok" Dean said clapping his hands together "Where?"

"A bar called the Alligator Pip" Rufus answered downing the rest of his drink in one gulp "We'll take the streetcar"

"Aces" Dean replied "Me and Cas've got change to spare"

"So I heard" Rufus said standing to fetch his coat "You two were all over the papers this morning"

"No!" Dean exclaimed lighting up "Like the gangsters in Chicago?"

"Yep" Rufus said expression almost a smirk "No photos though"

"Cryin shame" Dean replied before shooting a grin at Castiel "Lets go"


	5. Way Down in New Orleans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean noticed a candle lit on one of the tables seemed to burn with a purple light. He watched it’s dancing flame flicker and fly around its wax basin. A pair of dark brown eyes moved behind it and then a hand was on his shoulder pulling him back.
> 
> “Never look at the candle kid” Rufus ordered pulling him away from the booth Dean was abruptly very close to. As he walked him away he hissed into his ear “Ain’t your Daddy warn you about Hoodoo men?”

A high saucy trumpet sound thread though the air of the bar and into Dean's ears making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The clear crisp call of the live instruments stopped him in his tracks Cas bumping into his back as he stood and listened. Drips of piano keys and bass chords thrummed into pace answered by a few mirthful cries from the crowd. The tune started slow but Dean could feel it, knew it in his bones, that before long it would be racing. 

"You hear that Cas" Dean said blissfully "That's live Jazz"

"Yeah yeah Winchester" Rufus said pushing the two boys out of his way and grumbling, "It ain't like you never heard it before." 

Close to the band couples where swirling gracefully back and forth buoyed on the music and rhythm. Dean stumbled after Rufus eyes on the spicy dim world of the New Orleans bar around him. He could feel Castiel close behind. They navigated around the people and tables spread out in a crooked mess till they came to some darkly lit booths in the back of the bar. Dean noticed a candle lit on one of the tables seemed to burn with a purple light. He watched it's dancing flame flicker and fly around its wax basin. A pair of dark brown eyes moved behind it and then a hand was on his shoulder pulling him back.

"Never look at the candle kid" Rufus ordered pulling him away from the booth Dean was abruptly very close to. As he walked him away he hissed into his ear "Ain't your Daddy warn you about Hoodoo men?"

"No I guess he didn't think it was that important." Dean said fighting a deep-seated urge to look back at the candle.

"Look just go to the bar, get a drink, listen to the music and wait for me to come get ya" Rufus said sternly then gave Castiel a hard stare "You take him and keep him there"

Castiel nodded understandingly grabbing Dean by the crook of his arm. 

"Wha- Rufus I don't need to be baby sat" Dean whined as the older man pushed him in the direction of the bar Castiel leading him the rest of the way. When they got to the bar Dean shirked him off. 

"Hey Jack" he called to the bartender "I'll have two moonshine, easy on the shine for this one" he said tilting his head in Castiel's direction.

"Why?" Castiel asked indignantly as the bartender set to work mixing.

"Have you been drunk before?" Dean asked incredulously. 

"N…no not really" Castiel conceded.

"Exactly" Dean said, as the bartender placed the drinks on the bar. Dean picked his up and held the other out to Castiel. 

"To saving my ass" Dean said and then downed the small glass of alcohol. It burned his sore throat; a feeling Dean knew would fade with a few more shots. Castiel lifted his glass to his nose smelling it. His expression crinkled at the bitter scent.

"This smells bad" 

"Yeah it don't taste too good either" Dean commented placing his glass on the bar and tapping the lip for a refill "Bottoms up" Castiel complied gulping it down with a dissatisfied expression. He brought his fist to his mouth hiding a small coughing fit. Dean laughed and patted him on the back. He took the glass from Castiel's hand and ordered him another.

"So New Orleans huh?" Dean said leaning against the bar and surveying the room. He took a deep breath "This is where it's all happening Cas. I mean Jazz and blues. Something great is starting here" he tapped the bar with his thumb "I can feel it" Castiel looked around following Dean's gaze.

"I cannot" he said "but then I have never had a sense for that sort of thing"

"Well it ain't everybody's bag" Dean said casually picking up his second drink.

"There's a tingling in my legs" Castiel said looking down.

"Already?" Dean said before wagging his eyebrow teasingly "Well I guess it is your first time" 

"So that is supposed to happen?" Castiel asked completely missing the innuendo. Dean found this obliviousness even more entertaining and endearing. 

"Yeah, don't worry about it. Keep drinking and the tingling will stop" Dean replied sipping at his second drink "So Cas…why do you heal quickly?"

Castiel gave him a withering glance as he nipped at his second drink.

"You do not give up easily" Castiel stated placing his empty glass down on the bar as Dean agreed with a shake of his head "This is why we are drinking is it not? You wish to intoxicate me to get answers."

"No!" Dean exclaimed throwing an arm around Castiel's shoulders and leading him over to a table "but I don't see why you can't tell me" Castiel sat down a little too quickly and Dean could tell never having touched liquor had left Castiel a lightweight in the extreme. 

"You may find it odd" He warned apprehensively leaning forward.

"I don't find a lot odd Cas" Dean assured him giving him a knowing look. After a moment of pondering Castiel inclined his head.

"That makes sense," He admitted "Very well." Dean watched Castiel's glass as it lifted contents emptying down the boy's throat.

"There is nothing much to tell other then what you know" Castiel said, "I wasn't aware of it till I was 10. Until that point I had assumed that all children healed in the space of hours and days not weeks. I had never been ill. I have never-"

"Wait you've never been sick?" Dean cut him off. 

"No" Castiel answered.

"Wow"

"When I was ten one of my friends noticed a cut I had in the morning which was gone by the afternoon and called me some…unsavory things" Castiel paused to let out a small snort and a smile "After that it was difficult to avoid the fact that I was different" 

In his expression Dean read a hint of bitterness and imagined children finding a child that was seemingly impervious to pain. The look in Castiel's eyes suggested they had not used this knowledge in positive ways. 

"Kids can be cruel" Dean replied regaining Castiel's attention.

"Yes…" Castiel said thoughtfully but did not continue. 

"I think it's kinda cool" Dean said nonchalantly "I mean by tomorrow you'll probably be fresh faced and ready to go. What I'd give for something like that."

"You don't find it strange?" Castiel asked untrustingly. 

"Well yeah it's weird but like I said – I've seen weirder" he replied with a grin. Castiel's expression lifted a fraction at the ease of which Dean's acceptance came.

"Ok" Dean jumped as Rufus's hand landed with a slap on his shoulder "I got the goods. Let's get out of here"

"What? We only just got here" Dean said disappointedly eyes flicking to the misty table across the room. Through the wisps of smoke that drifted from the purple candle he could make out a reclining figure whose featureless face seem to stare in their direction. 

"It wasn't a social call kid, lets go" Rufus snapped then strode towards the door. 

As Dean and Castiel stood Dean threw a longing glance around the bar. The music was reaching a delirious pace and Dean felt as though he where walking away from a mysterious city he had yet to truly taste. When they reached the door he halted with a slight shake of his head. 

"Look Rufus" Dean said placing his hand on the older man's shoulder and pulling him to a stop.

"What?! Look you where the one who wanted this stuff now not later" Rufus said patience reaching its limit reminding Dean why he loathed his company. 

"Keep your shirt on!" Dean spat back and Castiel paused a few feet out of firing range "This going to be our only night in New Orleans and I don't wanna spend it all with your cranky ass. Go home, have some more whisky and we'll see you in a few hours" Rufus's face compressed into an exasperated growl before he turned storming out of the bar. Dean caught the faintest hint of 'God Damn Winchesters' before he vanished from sight. 

"Was that wise?" Castiel asked as Dean swept past him.

"Who cares?" Dean replied with a grin as he made his way back to the bar "By the time we get home he'll be too plastered to care" Castiel watched the space where Rufus had left apprehensively but did not make to follow. When he returned his gaze to the bar Dean was already holding out another drink. 

 

A single trumpet squealed delightfully into the air and in the second that followed Dean knew what was coming. Grabbing Castiel by the lapel he staggered out to the dance floor Castiel dropping his glass at the unexpected lurch away from the bar. The sound hadn't been lost on the rest of the bar's patrons and knowing what was beginning they too filed onto the floor till nearly every free space was taken. "It Don't Mean a Thing if it Ain't Got that Swing" was a favorite of Deans and as the small spot light focused on the svelte singer taking to the stage Dean knew if he was ever going to actually dance to a song it would be this one. Several drinks and two long hours lay behind him it's spoils thrumming through his body soothing away any self-consciousness or reason. Castiel was much further gone then Dean and did not even try to resist. Dean turned to Castiel with a sway and tried to steady the younger man who was squinting at the stage. 

"Cas, you dance?" Dean asked loudly voice almost lost in the sound of the band picking up. 

"No" Castiel shouted back. 

"Like this" Dean shouted gesturing to himself preparing a misguided attempt at teaching his new friend how to dance. Dean himself scarcely knew how to dance but he would be damned if he was going to leave New Orleans without giving it a shot. The sassy Jazz beat drummed a rhythm insistently into his blood and he began to match it with his stamping his feet. All around men and women launched into wild movements tapping the wooden floorboards, twisting their outfits into a spin and slapping their knees. Dean gave the room a wide surveillance and used their movements to embellish his small repertoire. He felt he managed a half decent effort at clicking and clacking on at a mean pace body whirling about with the music while Castiel did his best at willing his legs to simply keep the beat. 

After some time Dean became aware of the stares they where receiving and halted his furious terrible attempt at keeping the beat. Some people where hiding snickers others where outright glaring or laughing. Right as he ceased his movements Castiel crashed into him nearly knocking him down. He righted Castiel shouting into his ear.

"Cas I think it might be time to hit the road" His speech was slurred and stuttered but Castiel caught it. He gave the room a cursory glance. 

"Oh…yes" Castiel said slipping an arm around his shoulders and waving goodbye to the rest of the bar. The pair navigated precariously to the door Castiel arriving first. He, Dean and a small crowd of people filed out into the hot noisy street. As Dean hit the pavement he gave a little jig the music inside still reaching them. Just as he spun he saw something flicker in his peripheral vision. He did a double take as a tiny purple light darted between the street crowd and down the sidewalk. He looked to the faces of the people that it passed but none showed any interest in the ethereal sight. 

"Wha?" Dean hiccupped before giving chase. 

He weaved ungracefully through the crowd in his pursuit. He didn't catch Castiel calling his name as he rounded a corner leading down a side street. The light zipped across the street and came to an abrupt stop at the mouth of an alleyway. Dean looked either way at the 2 empty lanes and crossed slowly keeping as vigilant a watch on the light as possible. As he drew nearer its soft glow revealed a silhouette and Dean's walk halted in the gutter. The shadow stepped a little further into the light and revealed a tall man with dark skin and brown eyes. 

"Bonsoir" he called into the warm night air voice deep, he dipped his chin eyes flashing knowingly "Young hunter"

Dean blinked a few times trying to clear the fuzz from his vision. In spite of the added light he could gain little information from what the man was wearing, it was almost as if the shadows from the alley where clinging to him, hiding his whole form. Dean felt a bead of sweat trickle down his face and willed his mind to find lucidity. 

"Hey" Dean replied jabbing his index finger in the man's direction and choosing his words as carefully as he could "You're the Hoodoo man"

"Kai'ckul" he corrected voice low gaze unblinking "Watch out" 

"Watc-?" Before Dean could get the worlds out he was hit with the bright lights of a car and narrowly staggered up onto the sidewalk as the car swerved by horn furiously blowing. Dean felt a wave of dizziness come over him as his heartbeat raced and he spun back to face Kai'ckul who hadn't moved. Dean's hand hovered over his back pocket where the only weapon he had was concealed; a small butterfly knife. The man swept further back into the shadows holding a hand out as if beaconing to Dean to walk down the alleyway into the shadows.

"You kidding me?" Dean exclaimed incredulously "I ain't going down there!"

The man smiled eyes flicking down for a moment and he twirled his fingers in a spiral motion. The action transformed the purple pinprick of hovering light into a flame that curled and leapt between his fingers. 

"You can follow me of your own accord or I will bring you free of volition" he said ceasing all movement and allowing the flame to rest on his palm "We must speak"

Dean stared at him fingers twitching over his back pocket. However as he watched he could already feel the pull of the mysterious flames in the back of his mind. An insatiable urge to walk closer. He straightened his back and raised his chin defiantly. 

"Fine" Dean agreed fighting with every ounce of his consciousness to be sober. 

"Very good" Kai'ckul replied and the flame melted into a dim glowing light once more before moving down ahead of them to light the alleyway. Up close the man was much taller then Dean originally estimated. He suspected his true height was close to 6'6. Dean looked further down the alley trying to see if an ambush was waiting. At the end of the walkway there was a small table set up lit with candles and seats. He half expected tarot cards but saw none. The dead end was without people just the light that bobbed up and down. 

"Hey how are you doing that?" Dean asked eyeing the small light. In his years of viewing and dealing with monsters and dark magic he had never seen anything like it.

"An illumination spell from an old text" He replied half looking over his shoulder "With a hoodoo touch of my own imagining" 

"Right" Dean replied slowly annoyed at the vagueness of the reply. One of the first lessons his father taught him was resourcefulness and gaining new knowledge was part of that. Dean suspected a small glowing light without the need of carrying a flashlight and batteries would be very helpful in certain situations. 

"There have been many ill omens appearing" Kai'ckul stated breaking Dean from his train of thought.

"You're not too good at small talk huh?" Dean replied sarcastically and caught a small chuckle from the silhouette in front of him. Dean dropped into the rickety wooden chair across from Kai'ckul who swept gracefully down into his. 

"Allow me to read your future" he submitted holding out a hand. Dean scoffed looking the man up and down. He was surprised that he had been taken in.

"Really? That's what you're going with? You got this whole big scary hoodoo man thing and you're really just a con artist?" Dean said sitting back "The flame was a neat trick" 

"In three weeks there will be a cosmic event" Kai'ckul continued unfazed by Dean's attitude "It has been an event that has been foreseen for two hundred years. A syzygy"

"A what?" Dean asked concentrating hard to try and keep up.

"An alignment of planets" he clarified "Such events are extremely rare and their effects go by mostly unnoticed by everyday people but to you and me" he tapped his nose as if once again gesturing to the secret truth of their identities "It means something different entirely" 

"And what does this…" he considered attempting the strange word before realizing it would be hopeless "Planet Whatever…have to do with me?"

"In good time" He assured before continuing, "Syzygy not only disturbs physical effects like gravitational pull but also weakens the bonds of space between planes of existence and amplifies supernatural power"

"And I am supposed to believe this because…?" 

"Because, young hunter, for months now the population of ghosts and their strength has been increasing at an ever expanding rate as far above our heads the planets have been moving closer to alignment" Kai'ckul explained pointing to the sky "You think this a coincidence?"

Dean ground his teeth as he saw the logic behind the argument. He mulled over the idea deciding that planets aligning didn't sound like something he could change. He was about to repeat his earlier question when the idea that someone with so much knowledge might be worth investigating dawned on him. 

"Who are you?" Dean asked leaning back in his chair as casually as he could "Why are you telling me this?" 

"My name is Kai'ckul. I am a magic man. Just as you, Dean Winchester are a hunter. We do what we do because it is right to do so" He replied. 

"Bullshit" 

"This world is mine too" there was something dark and terse about his tone then and he drew himself up to his full height eyes glinting down at Dean dangerously "Not theirs" 

"Whose?" Dean asked as he sunk further in his chair equal parts afraid and in need of the information.

"The ones who would harness this power and opportunity to take what does not belong to them" Kai'ckul said and then paused looking to the mouth of the alleyway "Who would drive the spirits across the lands-"

"DEAN!" Dean's attention broke away from staring up to glance down the narrow passage. He could just make out Castiel through the darkness and called out to him.

"Hey Cas! Come down here!" Dean called beckoning but almost as the words left his mouth he felt his companion bristle. 

"You bring that creature?" the man almost hissed and in a blink the candles went out. Dean leapt off his chair as if it where on fire and backed away from the table and chairs now engulfed in darkness. He looked wildly around for a hint of Kai'ckul's presence but found none. He jumped as Castiel reached him placing a hand on his back. 

"You can not run off like that without telling me" Castiel began to scold then saw the empty table "Wasn't there a man here?" 

"Yes" Dean replied "A hoodoo man"

"You are remarkable. A moment out of sight and the first thing you do is the opposite of what Rufus has told you." Castiel's voice, husky with liquor, rose. 

"Shhhh!" Dean hissed pushing the other boy backwards towards the mouth of the alleyway never turning his back on the table that slowly faded into the dark.

Watch for the owl through the window the voice of the hoodoo man echoed from brick wall to brick wall causing both boys to jump. Dean pivoted taking Castiel's arm and running from the alley. 

* * *

The tram shuddered along the iron tracks clunking as it traced the same lines it had for years ferrying passengers through the city. Six soft globes lit the dark wooden interior in a gentle shine that was kind on tired eyes. Dean and Castiel sat close to the front staring out the large windows that lined the train walls. The only other passengers were a man at the back with his hat pushed down over his face and his violin case in his lap and a disheveled young waitress resting her elbow against the windowpane. Dean listened to the sounds of the train and the wind outside and all the while tried to find some clarity in the facts that had come to light. 

Someone wanted to use the power that the alignment of the planets would bring to drive the spirits across America but to what end. There was no doubt that the idea of such a powerful event could be used as a weapon. Thus far the spirits seemed to be purposeless, floating around aimlessly killing the occasional person, wreaking havoc but with no pattern that could be recognized. One thing was for sure; this was not a plan a human could be behind. He resolved to hit the lore when they got to Rufus. They needed to know their enemy. 

Dean could feel Castiel watching him and sighed. In the hour that it had taken them to find the correct tram they had scarcely spoken. Since the moment the lights had gone out in the alleyway the same hiss had been rolling around in Dean's ears 'You bring that creature'. Even on his slow track back to being sober Dean had it drilled in his bones not to ignore anything suspicious. 

"What?" he asked his gaze remaining on the houses beyond the windows.

"You are tense" Castiel stated.

"That tends to happen when you see 6 foot men vanish into thin air" Dean replied distractedly trying to think of a way to ask him to submit to some hunter protocol tests. A nick of silver and a splash of holy water where difficult things to ask of someone but would be completely necessary now. 

"It is not that" Castiel stated again and Dean rolled his eyes at how blunt he could be "You fought three men, where nearly shot by police and strangled by a ghost without lasting concern"

"Christo Cas!" Dean exclaimed not-so-subtly eyeing Castiel for a reaction. Castiel blinked and after a moment asked

"Is that not the ancient Greek for Christ?" 

"Yeah" Dean sighed irritably ticking possessed off the list of things Castiel could possibly be. 

"Why are you tense?" Castiel clarified putting extra emphasis on the 'why'. 

"The hoodoo man seemed to think there was something…" Dean tried to decide how to word the accusation so that it would not offend him if he were normal and would not tip him off if he were malevolent in some way "wrong with you"

Castiel's shoulders slumped slightly and he turned to face ahead eyes downcast. Dean leaned forward to watch his expression. His features had fallen into a solemn gaze. 

"I mean you seem fine to me" Dean added "it's just that I'm a hunter and I always have to keep an eye out for anything" Dean flinched for lack of a better word "Unusual" 

"Very well" Castiel conceded after a long moment. Dean leaned back against the window arms crossed and waited "Healing is not the only thing that is different about me…I am, as you say, a somewhat unusual person Dean"

"Really?" Dean deadpanned Castiel gave him a look before continuing. 

"I am not sure if I am the kind of 'unusual'" he said with air quotations "to be wary of but if I am to continue travelling with you I do not wish you to be tense around me" 

"Ok" Dean said with a nod, glad at least that he was yet to see the flash of black pupils. 

"When I was a child not only did cuts and bruises heal in a matter of hours but I could hear voices too. My father who is the preacher of the only church in our town told me that I was a blessed child and that I could hear the word of god" As Castiel explained Dean did his best not to give him a completely skeptical expression. 

"The word of god?" Dean reiterated.

"That is correct. I had my doubts even then because while the voices I heard where ethereal and different they said odd things. Things I do not think god would say" Dean decided to go along with this bizarre idea. 

"Like?"

"They spoke of Lucifer and Michael and Zachariah and the other names from the Bible but not as though they where god…as though they where lesser beings" Castiel explained "The voices nearly never spoke directly to me. In fact only 2 voices ever addressed me personally and they called me…'brother' and 'Castiel'"

As Dean listened he could hear Castiel's voice was unsure and Dean suspected it might be the first time he was telling anyone else this story. Dean wondered what it could possibly mean and was somewhere close to labeling Castiel crazy. The mostly harmless kind. 

"When I told my father what the voices where saying he changed my name" Castiel continued before Dean cut him off.

"Wait, wait, wait. Your Dad changed your name because a bunch of voices in your head said that is what you where called?" Dean asked shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Yes" Castiel confirmed. 

"What was your name before?" Dean asked.

"Immanuel" 

"Huh" 

"Yes. It is more normal. Acceptable" Castiel commented and after a moment of thought added "However I always liked Castiel better so it was fortunate in a way that my father was so sure of my sacred nature"

"You dad sounds…" Dean tried to find a polite way to say insane fanatic "Pretty serious about religion" 

"He is" Castiel replied, "My whole family is and so am I. In spite of this we have never been close"

"Join the club" Dean replied thinking of his father and their run-ins "My Dad was always pretty busy hunting when we where kids. It was kind of like having a travelling salesman as a Dad. Even when we started hunting together we never really saw eye to eye. Then he went to war…he's been a bad mood ever since. Can't really blame him I guess." 

"Was your father wounded?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah" Dean said somberly "He was shot in the leg and it destroyed some of the cartilage. He'll be on a crutch for the rest of his life" 

"I am sorry to hear that" Castiel commented and Dean shook his head.

"It's fine…his leg isn't really what he's angry about anyway" Dean said and quickly changed the focus "What about your dad? Did he got to war?"

"My father has a problem with his eyes so he never went to war" Castiel said "He was very focused on keeping the community together while it was happening though. I have often thought that is why he is so well liked in our town"

"So what is it that you guys butt heads about?" Dean asked, "He sounds like a pretty straight forward guy."

Castiel tapped a thumb absentmindedly on his knuckles. 

"My father is puritanical man" Castiel explained, "He believed in strict observation of the bible and its practicing in order to be closer to god. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps but…I wanted to be a scientist. He thought that in perusing that practice I was shunning the Bible and it's conclusions about the world"

"So why did you want to be a scientist?" Dean asked.

"Because I believe that science is a way to be closer to god" Castiel replied with conviction catching Dean's eyes in his strong gaze. 

"You've lost me" 

"Indeed. I lost him this way as well" Castiel said with a rueful smirk "Many think that one can be only believe in god or science but I believe science reveals to us true providence"

"How? Doesn't evolution trump the bible?" Dean asked brain trying to twist around the idea.

Castiel let out a huff of a laugh though his smile. 

"To me evolution proves God's existence. The deeper we study what draws the strings of the universe together the more certain I am of gods hand right down to the molecules that make up our cells" As Castiel explained his view of the world Dean watched his eyes light up "What are the odds that all of the right conditions should culminate in the evolution of a fish to a man? Astronomical. It is not luck or chance but design that brought those elements together" he came to a halt in his near passionate speech and the light died in his eyes, face returning to its previously subdued expression.

"What?" Dean asked. 

"That is not how my father saw it" Castiel said slumping back eyes studying the floor. Dean shook his head after a moment. 

"No. It can't just be your dad" Dean said, "You're already studying science which means you already decided to be a scientist a long time ago. So what is it? Why the long face?"

"I-" Castiel's voice died once more unwilling to continue, "I would rather not say"

"North Claiborne Avenue!" called the conductor and Castiel stood and strode off the tram. Dean scrambled to his feet to follow realizing belatedly that this was their stop. When he stepped down from the tram Castiel was half way up the path to Rufus's house. The tram pulled away at his back and he watched it trundle down the street into the distance shape fading until all that was left was the vague glow of the lights within. 

* * *

"He called it a scissorgy" Dean said having relayed most of the story to Rufus in excited bursts of recounting. Castiel watched from a small part of the couch that he had cleared of clutter. 

"A syzygy?" He asked.

"Yeah that's it" Dean said before turning his attention back to Rufus who had been quietly listening to the whole story from behind his desk.

"He is correct" Castiel replied, "I have been monitoring the planets movements for months in preparation for the event"

"Well I'll be damned" Rufus barked, "Did he say anything else?" 

"Just that I should watch for an owl at the window" Dean mumbled out, the knowledge still causing a shiver. Rufus also stiffened in his chair. Castiel looked from one to another as if he had noticed the change in attitude but if he did he made no comment.

"Did it sound like a threat?" Rufus asked opening a draw of his desk and rustling the contents around. 

"No, more like a warning" Dean answered. He watched as Rufus pulled some items from his draw and lay them out on the desk. He placed a coin, some dried flowers, powder and a bone of some kind into a small square cloth that he wrapped into a tiny hex bag and tossed to Dean. 

"Keep that on you" Rufus ordered as he stood "It'll repel evil and misfortune if you're lucky. Keep a sharp eye"

"Yeah I will" Dean agreed holding the bag in his fist.

"I'll get on the phone to Bobby, you read up on the lore and see if you can come up with any suspects for this ghost wrangler" Rufus ordered and Dean gave a tight nod. Rufus glanced at Castiel "What do you want to do with him?"

"If you require assistance I can help with finding a suspect" Castiel offered. Rufus shrugged and walked out into the kitchen calling

"Whatever you want kid" 

Dean moved over to the shelves and began pulling out select books and tossing them onto the coffee table. 

"Can we get a pitcher of water in here?" Dean called out to the kitchen "Kinda wanna skip the hangover"

"Git it yourself!" Rufus exclaimed indignantly earning a grin from Dean. He was beginning to enjoy the knee jerk crabby reactions the man had. His fingers moved over the worn bindings of the old books. He wondered how much museums would pay to get a hand on any one of these well-used tomes. He heard some movement behind him and when he turned Castiel was gone. 

He sunk into an easy chair at the far end of the coffee table and set the stack of books before him. The idea of studying lore and Sam where synonymous and his thoughts flew to his little brother. He had been used to missing him but lately the boy had been appearing in his thoughts frequently and Dean suspected it was their nearing reunion that was the cause. 

He saw movement in the doorway and then a glass of water moved into his line of vision. He followed the arm up to where Cas stood with a pitcher and an extra glass under his arm. Dean gave him a small 'thanks' and took the glass draining it. Once Castiel settled down on the couch Dean held out a book to him.

"Here" He said and Castiel took it "Look for any demon, monster or evil son of a bitch who might be interested in herding ghosts across America"

Castiel nodded and took the book. For hours the pair read, took notes and exchanged ideas until Rufus eventually turned in switching most of the lights in the house off. Dean found himself re-reading the same sentence time and time again trying to absorb it's meaning then with a huff of frustration lay it down flat in his lap. He gave a fleeting look at the clock and groaned at the arms which read '4'am. He rested his head back against the chair eyes closed. 

"Dean?" Castiel's voice whispered across the quiet room. 

"Hmm?" Dean hummed not willing to move. 

"What is the significance of an owl at the window? I don't understand that reference," Castiel said softly. The memory of the slaughtered cows resurged gorily into his minds eye and he shuddered. He opened his eyes a slit to look at Castiel. 

"It's a bad omen" Dean replied solemnly "If an owl watches you through a window it means you're gonna die"

Even in the dim light he could read the concern on Castiel's face. 

"Are these omens very accurate?" Castiel asked while Dean tried to fathom   
Castiel's ability to form full sentences at 4 in the morning. 

"No" Dean tried to give him a reassuring tone "Go to sleep" 

Castiel turned to face the only window in the room, which was mostly obscured by books and a framed tapestry leaning up against the wall. Dean watched him till he could not keep his eyes open anymore. He watched because Castiel's expression was not that of a person who was afraid of what they might see. Through his dim sleep deprived vision Dean saw a steadfast posture and determined bight eyes.


	6. Headaches and Heartaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Bobby’s still trying to track down some info but it’s hard since Hoover’s been on the scene. Ness can only sneak Bobby onto so many crime scenes-” Rufus explained before Dean cut over him by spitting his food out._
> 
> _“Ness?! As in Elliot Ness?!” Dean exclaimed with astonishment._
> 
>   _“Yeah” Rufus let out a snigger “He’s been working with Bobby for a year. Think Sam’s been doing some apprentice work with him”_
> 
> _Dean slammed his hands down on the table as he stood making Castiel and Rufus start._
> 
> _“I’m gonna kill that kid”_

Chapter 6: Headaches and Heartbreaks

 

"Good afternoon, Good afternoon" Cole announced stepping into the spacious expensively furnished Chicago apartment. He breezed past a moaning man bound and bleeding copiously in the centre of the living room. He flung his coat onto a nearby chair and strode over to Lucille who was reclining on a love seat perusing a magazine. Behind him Charlie pulled the door closed before stepping in front of it. Cole leant down kissing her cheek voice husky "Good afternoon" 

"Well aren't you in a good mood" She commented lending him a brief glance from the article she was reading. 

"I am darlin you bet I am" He said before tilting his head to the side hand slipping along the length of her thigh "See you're gettin dinner ready"

"Don't touch him" She said in a warning tone returning her attention to her article "he has to bleed out before I cook him" 

"Hmm" he snorted a chuckle "Got a little somthin special for you" He continued reaching into his pocket and flicking her a tiny object. Her hand shot out and caught the falling glittering item. She drew it close, placed the magazine down and gazed into it's surface. A tiny golden heart locket rested on her tanned palm. It's clasp was broken and the metal was dinted. 

"It's ugly" She surmised scrunching up her nose in distaste.

"That's right sweetheart" Cole said with a nod as he moved to the side board pulling out a bottle of whisky and two glasses "Fire it up" 

She blinked up at him through thick eyelashes before turning back to the table. She set the locket down on the table and pulled a bowl and some ingredients out from underneath. She skillfully combined and stirred the items muttering and chanting. Cole slipped onto the seat next to her and poured them each a glass. 

With a flourish she waved her hands in swirling motions over the bowl. Wisps of smoke began slithering up and around the bowl spitting and turning. The lights began to flicker; electricity shuddering and her tone became harsher and more urgent as she spoke long dead languages and demon promises. Cole leaned casually back and with a click of his fingers candles set throughout the room flickered alight. With one last command she lifted the locket and dipped it into the smoke then jerked it back out. 

A figure began flashing in and out of existence in the corner of the room. Cole tapped Lucille on the shoulder and held out a glass. She took it and leaned back into his chest sipping at the auburn liquid. Finally the figure manifested completely. 

A mixture of carmine stains and dirt trailed down her white gown and pale stockings. Black hollows shadowed her eyes while long matted blond hair, some of which had escaped a bun, trailed down her face and shoulders. Anger and sorrow was etched into her features and on her chest, peppered with bullet hole burns, rested a tiny gold locket. 

"Lucille meet Mary Winchester" Cole said jovially holding one arm out at the tattered figure. 

"Mmmmm" Lucille hummed with a cruel smirk. Mary whispered her cracked lips shaking. Lucille held out the locket and ordered

"Speak up girl"

"He's screaming," she cried out into the apartment. 

"Well then" Lucille replied "Go put him out of his misery"

* * *

"RUN!" He screams and time which had been jolting and jumping on it's endless dial halts. 

She turns to see men in gas masks stomping towards her through the black mud, descending on her with eyes of glass and mouths of tubing. She could not see where their hands ended and the guns began. The first two bullets shot into her skin with a shriek. She did not feel the ones that followed. Then they vanished into the operating tent the crash of their attack fading from her mind into an expanding soft cloud. She shivered on the ground stars high above reflected in her glazed eyes. She turned her head to the hills far away. She pretended he was there.

"John. I love you" 

He waited. She was gone. 

Dean.

DEAN

* * *

The sound of cries woke Dean tears warm on his cheeks. His eyes shot open taking in the sight of a young man hovering over him expression knotted with concern. His stomach lurched and he stood shoving Castiel out of his way and ran to a small room down the hall falling against the walls on his way there. He slammed the door shut and vomited into the toilet. Outside he could hear Castiel knock on the door.

"Dean?" the gentle voice called "Dean are you alright?"

His head pounded as he laid his forehead against the lip of the bowl breathing hard. The images sat fresh and vicious inside his forehead while his stomach twitched threatening another clench. He gripped the mat underneath his palms till they where twisted into fists. His skin felt wet and he could tell he'd been in the grips of the nightmare for most of the last few hours. 

"Dean?"

"I'm" Dean forced the words out of his throat raw "I'm fine. My bag" 

He heard Castiel's footsteps move away and cursed himself for falling asleep in the living room. No-one but Sam knew about his nightmares and even then the brothers never spoke of it. He spat into the toilet and sat back against the wall waiting for Castiel to return. He wiped his dry palms across his eyes and rubbed them willing the images to disappear. He heard a knock and the door opened wide enough for the bag to fit through. Dean reached out and took it, dragging it into his lap and the door closed. Dean smiled faintly at the wood of the door before turning back to the bag and digging out a fresh pair of clothes. 

He washed up as much as he could in the basin cleaning most of the sweat away and rinsing out his mouth before brushing his teeth. Once he was moderately clean he pulled on a fresh set of clothing and located his shaving kit. His four-day growth was almost at the grisly stage and far from kempt. He set his kit on the basin and tossed a towel over one shoulder.

"Dean I'm going to cook some breakfast would you like some?" Came Castiel's voice from behind the door. 

"Yeah" Dean called as he mixed up some shaving cream "What are you cooking?"

"Farmers breakfast" Castiel said which varied from place to place but mostly maintained the standard eggs, bacon, tomatoes and potatoes. Dean nodded to himself stomach almost settled and craving salt. 

"Sounds great" Dean replied "Make mine greasy"

"Did you not just vomit violently?" 

"Hangover food Cas. Gotta be greasy. I'd have a burger if we had time" Dean called lathering the cream across his chin. He heard Castiel leave and pulled out his blade. The razor once belonged to his father before he bought an electric shaver. Dean remembered the day his father passed him the small gilded box with a proud kind of smile. He'd spent the next hour trying to teach Dean how to rid himself of the beginnings of facial hair. He had been 13. Dean felt the sharp metal slide across the slants of skin and brush by brush swept the hair away. He rinsed his face and dried it with the towel sighing with the pleasant feeling of air on his new skin. 

Finished with his grooming routine he left the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen. As he passed through the living room the aroma of cooking food wound it's way into his nose and he licked his lips. In spite of his unpleasant awakening the hour that had passed left him hungry. He entered the kitchen and sat down at the table next to Rufus who was reading a newspaper. He grunted a greeting without looking up and Dean nodded in reply. Castiel was in the process of dishing up. 

"Here" Castiel said placing a huge breakfast before him "Rufus told me that hangovers require meat so I cooked eggs, bacon and sausage and then potato, mushroom, spinach, toast and tomato"

Dean boggled at the huge meal before him.

"Jesus Cas!" Dean exclaimed picking up his fork and knife "When you cook you don't mess around"

"I assume we will be riding for some time today so we might as well fill up as much as we can now" Castiel said placing a similar meal before Rufus and sitting down across from Dean. Dean eyed Castiel warily wondering if he would ask about the nightmares. The moment passed with Castiel eating neatly and looking down at his food and with a shrug Dean supposed he was allowing Dean that privacy.

"Bobby called this morning" Rufus said placing the paper down and taking up his cutlery "Says he's managed to squeeze some info from a shady character or two and the word on the streets is that two powerful demons hit the Chicago scene a few months ago. Since then they've been killing hunters and shaking down wise guys"

"So what's new?" Dean said through a mouth of bacon.

"They've got a heavy body guard which stuck out as strange. Demons don't have guards so these two must have something worth guarding" Rufus replied.

"Kai'ckul said that they would take something that didn't belong to them" Dean said and then with a start realized that going to the source might be more helpful then speculation "Have you managed to find him?"

"No" Rufus replied an annoyed expression moving his features "I called around some people but no-one has heard from him since last night. We think he might have gone into hiding for some reason"

Dean and Castiel exchanged a stare. 

"Don't know what they could take but one thing's for sure. The ghosts sightings are increasing" Rufus said pushing the paper into the middle of the table. Dean and Castiel leaned forward reading the headline 

'PHANTOM ATTACKERS TAKING LIVES IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT'

Dean skimmed the article as he shoveled in his meal. It spoke of a spate of attacks across the country by strange phantom people who seemed to do damage or kill and then vanish into the night. 

"Damn" Dean said downing half of his coffee "If the papers have picked up on it then it really must be kicking up"

"Um-hm" Rufus agreed. 

"So these demons got names?" Dean asked.

"Cole and Lucille" Rufus replied, "Slick pair too. Blood baths crop up wherever their trail leads"

"And the heavy?" Rufus shook his head.

"Nothin much known about him, not even his name. Bobby thinks he ain't human"

"Why?"

"Because demon's don't leave the kind of messes he does" Rufus replied "They're almost like werewolf leftovers but no canine bite marks. Bobby's still trying to track down some info but it's hard since Hoover's been on the scene. Ness can only sneak Bobby onto so many crime scenes-" Rufus explained before Dean cut over him by spitting his food out.

"Ness?! As in Elliot Ness?!" Dean exclaimed with astonishment. 

"Yeah" Rufus let out a snigger "He's been working with Bobby for a year. Think Sam's been doing some apprentice work with him" 

Dean slammed his hands down on the table as he stood making Castiel and Rufus start.

"I'm gonna kill that kid" he snarled storming out of the room "He's away for a year and he doesn't think to mention he's been playing hooky with Elliot Ness!"

He stomped into the living room and began gathering his things leaving a stunned Rufus and Castiel behind.

"Are we leaving?" Castiel's voice called from the kitchen.

"Hells yes we're leaving!" Dean shouted and heard the kitchen chairs scrape across the floor. As he packed he could hear dishes being stacked "If I gun I can meet Ness before the week is out"

"Suppose I'll do the dishes then!" came Rufus's gruff angry comment.

"Suppose you will" Dean shouted back, unfazed by his annoyance. He listened to the sounds of Rufus's muffled swearing with a degree of amusement. Castiel walked into the room and over to the couch where his things where placed. As he began packing them away Rufus joined them. 

"So before you go racing off what's your plan?" Rufus asked from the doorway of the living room hands on hips.

"You keep an ear out for Kai'ckul, I burn up to Chicago" Dean replied, Castiel placing his things and a few books into his postman's bag "Cas how long till the Sysygy?" 

"Two weeks, 6 days" 

"Ok so we have three weeks to find these demons and figure out their plan so we can shut them down" Dean said striding into the bathroom and retrieving his things before returning to the living room "It should only take me 2 or 3 days to get to Chicago, dropping you off on the way of coarse" Dean added gesturing to Castiel eyes holding long enough to notice a twitch of discomfort flutter across his features.

"It should be plenty of time" Dean said deciding to ignore Castiel's reaction "I'll keep checking in with you and Bobby"

"Ok" Rufus said following Dean and Castiel to the door "Keep that hex bag on you, don't loose the dispelling ingredients Kai'ckul gave you. If the demon's plans go over you're going to need em" Dean nodded pausing on the doorstep.

"It's been swell old man" Dean said with a teasing tone.

"Get goin' ya brat" Rufus said shoving Dean so he stumbled down the stairs.

"Eh!" he said shaking a hand in Rufus's direction as he walked towards the bike.

"Keep an eye on him" Rufus said to Castiel nodding in Dean's direction. He then stepped back inside his front door "He plays gung-ho. Ain't mean he is" 

"Cas come on!" Dean called revving the bike "Let's go!" 

* * *

Dean and Castiel flew down the highway breaking nearly every speeding limit along the way. They had driven all day stopping once for petrol and a snack before getting back on the bike. Dean wondered at his companion's silence as since breakfast Castiel had barely said a word. It was as though he where back to the way he'd been the day after Dean had met him and it was putting Dean on edge. A few times he'd opened his mouth to ask what was wrong as he had grown accustomed to the easy report that had developed between them and having it gone was bothering him. However he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. Castiel had granted him discretion that morning and Dean wondered if it was his turn to do the same. 

The sky above them faded from orange to red to pink and finally a bright gold. The day passed gradually into night and though Dean was determined to drive on he could not ignore the way his eyes where beginning to droop or the stiffness developing in his muscles. He was waiting on a small town he'd seen on the map earlier that day and knew that it could not be far away. He switched on his headlight. They drove on for what seemed like an age though Dean supposed it mustn't have been longer then half an hour. 

His head fell forward and he snapped it back up realizing he was falling asleep. The shock it gave him spurred him to talk to Castiel. He needed to be kept awake and he could tell by the way Castiel wasn't leaning against him that he wasn't tired at all. 

"Hey Cas" he called and waited for a reply. For a few minutes there was none. 

"Yes?" Castiel answered.

"What's going on with you man?" Dean shouted over the sound of the bellowing wind.

"I don't know what you mean" Castiel replied. Dean shook his head.

"You haven't said anything to me all day" Dean replied pressing the subject. 

"I have not had anything to say" Castiel retorted. 

"Ok what are you thinking about then?" Dean asked feeling the beginnings of irritation creeping up on him. Castiel didn't reply and Dean decided that whatever it was Castiel was clearly intent on avoiding the subject. They drove on for a few more miles in silence. Dean was close to trying to start up another conversation when he felt Castiel's torso press lightly against his back as he leaned closer. 

"I was thinking about you" Castiel said no longer shouting due to their proximity. Dean found it hard to read the tone in his voice but he felt a heat flash lick across the skin underneath his clothes. He realized as his stomach turned that he was nervous. He did not know why as there was nothing in Castiel's tone to suggest he should be wary.

"What about me?" he asked looking back. Over his shoulder and through the dim light he could only see half of Castiel's face. His expression seemed passive to the point of being cold and his chapped lips where pressed together in a hard line. 

"Dean" he said and took a breath "I-" but his eyes only paused on Dean's face momentarily before flicking up to the distance beyond him. His eyes seemed to squint for a moment before blowing wide his expression cracking into alarm "DEAN LOOK OUT!"

Dean snapped his attention back to the road and time wound down almost to a halt. Standing in the middle of the road a meter from them was a figure in white. In the long seconds that warped as they stretched Dean ran through the things she could be. Her pale blue eyes and semi-transparent figure told Dean what she was a ghost but she hadn't approached them before so she wasn't a woman in white. They grew closer. She was wearing a tattered nurses uniform, which had bullet holes in the chest so he surmised a violent death. Dean willed his body to turn the bike but it was miles behind his mind. They grew closer still. She looked sad as she eyed him then reached out. The cold space in the air where her fingers should be brushed against his cheek. A locket glinted on her chest. Dean gasped.

He wrenched against the handlebars and the bike's wheels slid out from underneath them. He could hear the scream of metal ripping against asphalt, felt a sharp pain and heard shouts of terror he knew where his and Castiel's but somehow did not feel like they where. The world broke into moments of slight. They seemed almost like photographs. The asphalt. The Indian. The ditch beside the road. Finally the night sky and stars. 

As he lay there letting the ache seep through his body time began to settle back into pace. He took root in his body and realized the sound of harsh breathing was his own. Gingerly he turned onto his side and twisted the top of his body to look back down the road. The knot in his throat tightened at the sight of her. The ghost walked lightly down the incline of the ditch to his side. She bobbed down beside him and placed her hand on his left arm. Tears of nothing but air dripped down her dirt-covered cheeks. 

I'm so sorry my darling she whispered without words. An echoing cry sounded across the vacant road and she vanished. 

"No" he ground out gripping the grass with raw knuckles and dragged himself in the direction of where she'd been. His body gave out sinking to the ground chin falling to the muddy earth "no"

* * *

Events Dean weren't sure where real poked out through a vale of broken sleep. He tried to wake; his mind sought consciousness but only grabbed fragments. He felt fingers pressing into stinging muscles and lifting him. The wind whipped against his face and an arm was over his shoulder and around his chest. He looked up to see a stranger loom over him and a woman beside him. A nurse. He called to her but she wasn't the same. She had brown hair, kind eyes and roses in her cheeks. He told her to go, to run but she didn't. She just spoke softly to him and he knew it couldn't be the same. Her hand on his forehead was warm and alive. 

Exhaustion clung to the tendrils of his consciousness as he forced himself awake every part begging for sleep. He was propped up against a wall in a waiting room Castiel at the desk a few feet in front of him. The woman behind the desk was telling Castiel to watch him, make sure he didn't have any bad turns during the night. He caught the words 'rest…fine…days…pills'. In a flash Castiel was back by his side the last piece of missing time. His hand moved between Dean's underarm and side. Dean shrugged away from him and gave him a push.

"No" he tried to say firmly and hauled himself up to stand. The ground seemed to swerve precariously beneath his feet "No" he swallowed "No"

She was the only thing he could think of and in that state of mind bent on her he was verging on falling apart. Any kindness would break him and above all else Dean would not break. He did not break when Sam left. He did not break when John would drink till he was soaked with tears and crying out for her. He would not break when Castiel touched him. 

"Dean" Castiel's voice made it to him through the mist. 

"Cas I said no" Dean bit out and straightened his back though he was sure he was still swaying. In his mind he recited, like a child, 'One foot, one foot, one foot, one foot' placing every step with care and focus. He looked down at his muddy shoes willing each step to keep him from toppling. As he watched them he could see an arm too. At first he did not understand why it was there. Then he realized that they where Castiel's arms and that they where each hovering a few inches from Dean's chest and back guiding him with that small space. They reached the door of what Dean supposed was a clinic and he stopped. 

He looked to Castiel standing beside him. He placed a hand clumsily on the side of his neck staring into his eyes. He nodded deliberately ignoring the way the grounds undulating got so much worse when he did. He let his palm slide down to the point between his shoulder and neck and squeezed it softly. Castiel gave him a weary smile in return and together they continued out the door into the early hours of the morning.

* * *

Dean went through bouts of fitful sleep before waking in a sparse hotel room. The small metal clock by his head on his bedside table read 5:50am. Sitting next to it was a pill bottle. He sat up knowing he'd only slept a few hours but refused to lie still any longer. Every aching bone in his body was restless. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and found his bag below him. He pulled on some clothing as quietly as he could delicately placing his limbs into the cloth. He picked up the pill bottle and slipped it into his pocket knowing they where strong painkillers. He felt a twinge of pleasure at the thought of having painkillers on hand. It was always good for hunters to stockpile as many painkillers as they could for occasions such as the night before.

He left the room pulling the door closed behind him. His way to the dining room of the hotel was sluggish and difficult. The hotel was a three-story place and he had been in the top floor corner room. Dean was relieved to discover its dining room opened early. He could see there where a few people already seated. A couple of early birds and one late one. He recognized the back of Castiel's head instantly and paused in the doorway. He couldn't decide what he wanted more: solitude or company. Eventually with fatigue weighing heavily on him he decided company would be fine. 

He dragged himself across the room and dropped into a seat across from Castiel. They sat in silence both looking out the window into the dim blue light outside. A waitress came over and asked for his order. Dean settled on a black coffee then slumped back into the soft foam padding of the seat. He rested there for a while not paying much attention to any one thing. Eventually his eyes crept up to Castiel. He had a large band aid stuck across his cheek and his right arm, which lay across the table, was wrapped with bandages. He could see antiseptic stained grazes all down his left arm and over his hand. The abrasions looked nasty, as did the scrape on the side of his head that had left matted hair and blood. Dean had no doubt Castiel also had a tube of painkillers somewhere on his person. 

He looked back to the grazes on Castiel's arm and watched them with vague curiosity. He wondered if he looked at them closely enough he would see them healing before his eyes. He had yet to see the exact state he himself was in but he was relatively sure there was nothing broken in his body and for that at least Dean was glad. The waitress brought over his coffee and placed it before him. The aroma wafting up from it in little clouds promised a bittersweet taste and a better form of clarity. He took it in his hand and was about to sip when Castiel finally spoke.

"Hello Dean" he said eyes not leaving their vigil of the calm empty street.

"Hey" he said voice husky. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

"The Doctors informed me that you have lightly sprained your wrist but it should be fine within the next few days. They also bade me watch over you during the next 24 hours and insure you do not take a bad turn"

"Bade" Dean said quietly with a soft snicker deciding that while the painkillers where keeping his injuries from him they were also giving him a more amusing slant on the situation.

"I broke my arm and lost some skin on my leg. My arms and my head have been badly grazed" Castiel said and the laughter died in Dean's throat. Castiel was unfazed by Dean's previous snickers and continued "I can feel the bones and skin knitting though and I too should be fine in a few days" He turned to Dean then and gave him an apologetic sigh.

"What?" Dean asked coffee pausing halfway to his lips.

"The Indian did not get off as lightly as we did" Castiel said somberly.

"What?" Dean reiterated urgency gripping him and he placed the coffee down.

"We must take it to a mechanic once the shop down the street has opened. I drove us here on it but by the time we arrived black smoke was pouring out of it and I could smell burning" Castiel explained. Dean dragged his fingers though his hair.

"Fuck" he muttered breathlessly as his deep disappointment sunk in "Not the Indian"

"We will have to wait and see what happens with it" Castiel commented, "We still have a considerable amount of funds though and I doubt we will have to stay in this town more then a week"

"A week" Dean groaned.

"If that is unacceptable we can take the bus" Castiel offered, "I just assumed you would not want to leave the Indian behind"

"You assumed right" Dean concurred. He went back to drinking his coffee and contemplating his bike and what John would say when he got it home. He wondered if he paid enough weather he'd be able to give it a new paint job before they left. 

"Dean who was the woman on the road?" Castiel asked bluntly ripping Dean from his musings. Dean sat back against the seat once more folding his arms over his chest still trying to get over the Indian and desperately wanting to avoid that conversation.

"No-one" Dean said with a light shrug avoiding Castiel's eyes. 

"Do not tell me she was no-one. In spite of an accident and not inconsiderable injuries you reached for her. You tried to get to her. Who was she?" Castiel pressed.

"She was a ghost" Dean replied defensively.

"Dean" Castiel's tone was serious "Was she the one you dream of?"

Dean's eyes snapped back to Castiel's face.

"I have heard you cry out in your sleep every night since we have met" Castiel said gaze falling "Then after the accident while I was bringing you to the Indian you kept reaching out to where she was repeating the same thing. You said it to the nurse at the clinic we went to as well"

"Did I say anything else?" Dean asked.

"No. You just begged them to go" Castiel replied. Dean's arms pulled tighter around his chest trying to hold the old pain at bay. The yellow globe above their heads along with the strangeness of the hour drew Castiel into a new light. The lamp made a crooked hallo around his dark messy hair and there was compassion in his eyes. The gentle way he looked brought Dean to a decision he never thought he would make. 

"Cas…" he spoke the word husky and dangerously close to a break. He steeled himself and pined his gaze firmly to a road sign by the street outside the window. He'd never said the words to someone's face before. 

"Growing up my parents weren't like everyone else's you know…Mom would go out and slay a vampire and Dad would cook dinner. Next night Dad would hunt a werewolf and Mom would bake" Dean recounted the past of his early childhood. In all those memories it was like his universe in it's span which reached from one side of town to the other was in Technicolor "When the war came and Dad signed up. Mom said she'd be damned if he went out to fight without her. She was so mad that they'd only take her as a nurse" Dean let out a small laugh remembering the day she received her acceptance letter "But she said she had had plenty of practice patching my dad up so she'd do fine. They didn't know…no-one knew…" Dean trailed off and in his peripheral vision he could see Castiel nodding. 

"My Mom was deployed in a Casualty Clearing Station in France near the front lines. One night ah…the station was attacked" Dean said pausing to try and collect himself. He could feel his eyes burning "and she was killed. For years we didn't even know why or how. Then one afternoon after school a man showed up on our doorstep. He was a General and I thought he must be one of Dad's war buddies so I let him in. This guy had good intentions. He came to tell us that he knew our mother. That she'd been brave and had saved many people and fought the good fight. She'd worked on him the night he'd lost his leg…but war vets…they have no filter you know…" Dean said feeling his eyes welling up and spill over "He told us that he saw her die. He told us how she'd died…and no matter what I do I can't…I can't get the pictures out of my mind…all the things he said…he told us everything" 

He pressed his fingers to his temples. 

"Dad came home. The General tried to tell Dad about Mom too and Dad threw him out" Dean said, "Dad didn't want to know…he didn't want to know anything about it"

Dean sniffed the sound so loud in the quiet dining room that he flinched. In a strange way he felt like he had poured out every part of himself out, opened a floodgate that had emptied till there was nothing left inside. He felt hollow and lighter somehow. 

"You never told him about the nightmares" Castiel said and Dean shook his head eyes still covered. He bit down on a shaking lip to hold it still.

"Cas it was her" Dean spoke finally raising his gaze to meet Castiel's vision swimming "From all the photos, from the locket my Dad gave her right down to the way she died. It was my Mom"


	7. Gangsters and Indians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He listened with growing concern as the forceful stride came down the hall approaching his room. Dean placed the book down on his bedside table and reached his hand under his bed where he had wedged a shotgun between the frame and mattress._
> 
> _He pulled at the handle but it did not come loose. Dean yanked harder the footsteps less then a room away and the gun budged but did not come loose._
> 
> _"Shit!" Dean swore through his teeth leaning over the bed to get a better angle when the door slammed open. He turned his torso back to face the door eyes wide.  
> _

The Indian sagged on the front lawn of the Hotel Hartley in the midday sun. Dean reached down with a sigh and pulled a clump of dirt and grass from the spokes of the front wheel. Contusions mottled the guard breaks of the once gleaming motorbike. Sliver scrapes tore through the red paint and gold lettering on the fuel tank. The glass in the headlight was smashed but when Dean flicked the switch the light turned on without delay. The seat was bent at an awkward angle and the stitching on the corner of the leather had come loose. Dean knelt beside the engine and retrieved a small tool kit from his bag.

He felt the eyes of those in the dining room watching him as he set to work evaluating the level of damage the bike had suffered. Whist he was a mechanic of 3 years Dean mostly specialized in cars and farming equipment and doubted he'd be able to fix the bike on his own. He wiped some sweat from his forehead with the cuff of his sleeve muttering as he worked.

"Ah baby. I'm sorry," he said quietly checking the ignition wire "We'll get you fixed up in no time."

He frowned pinching the fuel line between his fingers. The rubber revealed a small tear under pressure. Dean wiped his hands off on his pants.

"So that was the smell Cas was talking about," Dean said running his hands along the chain drive "aaaand this is why you stopped altogether" he said noting that the chain had jammed "Cas was lucky you didn't god damn well blow up."

He secured the parts back into place and packed his kit up. He glanced into the window of the hotel but did not see Castiel inside. He wondered where the boy had gone. Dean took the handlebars in his hands, kicked the bike stand back and began pushing it down the road. 

As he walked he allowed his mind to drift. The first day in town had been spent sleeping much to Dean's chagrin. He'd woken in the late afternoon and realized the day was mostly gone. He'd hurried to town but discovered all the shops, including the mechanics, were closed. With annoyance he took note of their hours and returned to the hotel for dinner. Since he'd helped Dean back to bed in the small hours of the morning Dean had not seen Castiel.

In a way he was grateful for the day's separation. The awkwardness he'd felt upon waking the previous afternoon was potent. However the more he'd thought about how their conversation about his mom had gone and remembered the way Castiel had taken in the story the better he'd felt about it. There was even a quiet gratefulness in the back of his mind, scarcely acknowledged, for finally having released some of his grief. 

As he walked he studied the shop fronts and goings on of the busy main street. Every now and then he'd pass a car parked by the curb and stopped to admire them. The red brick buildings painted yellow, white and grey seemed small and folksy in comparison to the smoky melting pot that was the world of New Orleans. In spite of the volatile nature of his time spent there Dean was already missing being amongst that delirious haze. 

"Hey kid you lost?" The scratchy voice pulled Dean from his musings. Standing before him was an older man in dirty overalls and a tee shirt, cigarette hanging from his mouth, cap sitting so far down on his forehead Dean wondered how he could see at all "You just been standing there gazin' inta space."

Dean's eyes flicked up to read the large painted wooden sign that announced "Cherokee Parts Store - Garage Works."

The shop front beneath it seemed more of a shack then a mechanics and since opening that morning a stack of tires and the front bumper of a car had been added to it's facade. He supposed they where for sale and noted that they gave the shop a junkyard appearance. It reminded Dean of a more disorganized version of Bobby's junkyard. 

"Uh no," Dean stuttered out after a moment "Just wanting to get my motorbike fixed." 

"Huh." The man muttered tipping his hat back with his thumb and shuffling over to get a closer look "Sure banged er up good."

"Yeah." Dean said with a nod then pointed to different parts "The fuel line needs replacing, the chain drive is jammed, I'd like the dints beat back into shape, the tires tested, the seat re-sewn, a full wash and a paint job that makes her shine like new." he finished with a grin. The man let out a snort.

"And ya got the money to pay fer all that?" he asked doubtfully. Dean pulled out his wallet, having emptied most of its girth earlier that day to avoid being conspicuous, and pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills.

"That ought to cover it." Dean said handing them over. The man whistled tucking the money into his overall pocket then held one hand out.

"Spose yer daddy's rich n'?" he said as Dean took his hand "Names Jim."

"Dean." Dean replied as they shook "And my dad gets along ok."

"You wanna bring 'er inside?" Jim offered gesturing to the open double doors. Dean began pushing the Indian into the shop. 

"I want this done in no more then a week Jim. Can you handle that?" Dean asked.

"You kidd'n?" Jim exclaimed. Dean held out another hundred, which Jim took without a second's hesitation "You got it Dean." 

* * *  
"It's your move."

Cole studied the tiny gold heart resting in the centre of his palm. He flicked it up and down for a moment before closing it in his grasp. He stood placing his winning straight down onto the poker table. Groans escaped all those around and he collected his winnings. He knew soon he would have to have a modest loosing streak as the reputation of his illegal poker basement was gathering a cheating edge. 

"I'm out." he announced tossing a bill to the dealer. 

"Hey Cole, how come you win all the time?" One of the men asked a hint of intimidation in his tone.

"Made a deal with the devil," he replied with a wink "Night Gentlemen."

He pulled the door closed behind him to the sounds of murmured bitter farewells. He strode down the hallway and up the stairs at the far end. They led to a door in the back of the building that opened onto an alleyway. He stepped out squinting at the dim sunlight. After lighting a cigarette and placing it between his lips he went through his pockets retrieving a small bag. He took his cigarette and pressed the end into the bag till it set alight then tossed it onto the dirty ground. 

He took a few drags on his cigarette watching the bag burn. Gradually smoke began curling up from the bag and into the air. He held his fist out into the smoke allowing the smoke to curl between his fingers and into the small locket there. He began chanting his heavy accent cutting into the ancient language. A figure began to appear. 

Mary was as disheveled and pale as ever but in her eyes Cole could read a fresh kind of horror.

"And they say the dead can't change." he muttered passed his cigarette.

"Fuck you!" she swore ruthlessly and Cole snorted a laugh.

"Don't be like that." he replied with a sneer "How's your boy?" 

"Alive." she replied chin rose in defiance. His eyes flicked up to hers to look for lies. Whist shaken he could read only truth in the hollow gaze. 

"Huh," he said surprised "So spells don't work on you."

"I will never take his life no matter what you spit out at me." she said viciously. 

"A mothers love. There's some power in that granted," he said holding his palm out flat and jamming the end of his cigarette into the centre of the heart. She cried out falling to her knees and flashing in and out of sight.

"But sugar you've always been plan b." 

She vanished with a scream and Cole held the locket up to his mouth and blew the smoke away. In a moment he was out in the phone booth by the corner of his bar.

"Charlie get us a car and pick Lucille up from Marshall Feild's. We're going for a drive." 

* * *

Dean sighed as he finished the local paper and placed it down on his table. The restaurant around him bustled with the sound of waiters cleaning up from the lunch rush and preparing for dinner. Dean was sitting in the window booth seat enjoying the last of the afternoon sun. A neatly dressed young woman swept up beside him placing his lunch of a large burger with fries and a milkshake down before him. 

"Thanks." Dean said cheerily, licking his lips at the feast before him. Dean was hard pressed to escape his hunger on a normal day. As it stood he'd missed two meals in the last 24 hours. He meant to make up for it. As he took his first bite of the huge juicy burger he wondered over the town's newspaper and it's lack of weird stories. It had been a long time since he'd been on a proper hunt, even before he left home and was beginning to wonder where the monsters had gone. Perhaps, he thought, like birds fleeing a storm, the monsters had gone into hiding. 

Dean lifted the burger to take his second bite when something moved into his peripheral vision outside the restaurant. Dean's eyes widened.

"Cas!" Dean called sitting forward and wrapping firmly on the glass. Castiel who had been walking down the pavement outside started and looked back. Recognition sparked in his eyes and he walked back to the restaurant's front door. A bell above the door rang as Castiel opened it.

"Dean." he leaned in, the corners of his mouth turning up as he spoke. 

"C'mere," Dean called through a mouthful of burger waving his hand in a beckoning fashion "C'mere." 

Castiel stepped inside and crossed the diner to Dean's table taking the seat across from him.

"Where've you been dude?" Dean asked pushing his plate forward and gesturing to the chips "Haven't seen you since Thursday."

Castiel took a chip off Dean's plate. 

"I have been many places. I spent most of yesterday in the hotel as I still had to keep an eye on you," Castiel replied biting into the chip with a crunch "But in the evening I went for a walk for a few hours."

"You've got bad timing brother," Dean replied. Castiel cocked his head in response and Dean smirked "Those few hours you where out I was up."

"It is strange timing" Castiel agreed conversationally "Then today I met a very friendly young woman named Gladice who works in the diner at our hotel"

"Second day in town and you're already knocking the birds down" Dean snickered taking another bite. 

"She informed me that there was a fair on today and insisted that I go with her." Castiel continued taking another chip. 

"I bet she did." Dean commented though he felt mildly unsettled by the idea. He supposed it was because he was constantly on the lookout for shady behavior however Castiel was a good looking boy and he supposed it made sense that a girl would try to pin him down quickly.

"It was a very pleasing day," Castiel continued as Dean eyed him thoughtfully. The image of Castiel being pined down flashed through his mind dim and distant. 

"Sounds peachy keen." he replied shaking the strange image out of his mind. 

"What did you do?" Castiel asked.

"Took the Indian to the mechanics where Jim the owner told me it should be ready within the week." Dean replied wondering how much Jim had been able to do to the Indian that day "Said he'd call me at the hotel when it's ready. Aside from that I set up some cans and practiced shooting."

"I see," Castiel said "That sounds productive."

"Wouldn't hurt for you to give it a go." Dean said offhandedly.

"I am proficient at utilizing firearms," Castiel replied with a slow shake of his head.

"Tell that to the cop car that you couldn't even hit from 3 feet with rock salt shots." Dean said sarcastically. 

"I was not aiming at the car." Castiel replied. 

"Why not?" Dean asked confused. 

"I did not wish to harm the police officers." Castiel answered.

"Sure slick," Dean said sarcastically "Bet you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn."

Castiel pursed his lips seeing there was a challenge being stated. 

"Very well. I will demonstrate my skill tomorrow," Castiel shot back "And you will eat the words you have just spoken."

Dean closed his eyes slowly at the horribly delivered comeback but unwilling to try and explain the clumsiness of the response he continued.

"Fine. Meet you out by the creek behind the mill at noon." Dean replied picking up his milkshake.

"Agreed." Castiel said firmly. 

"And whoever looses buys the beers." Dean added before taking a gulp.

"But Dean…" Castiel said leaning forward conspiratorially "Prohibition." 

Dean rolled his eyes clapping a hand onto Castiel's shoulder.

"I'm gonna teach you some euphemisms while we're at it." Castiel was silent for a moment. 

"Thank you…I have been told that I am not terribly good at delivering slang." Castiel replied the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks "Well…I will see you later."

"You going?" Dean asked surprised as Castiel stood and straightened out the few creases in his clothes. 

"Yes I have agreed to have dinner with Gladice tonight and I wanted to change before I went out." Castiel replied. 

"Ohhhhh" Dean drew out the word with a sleezy leer and nod "So that's how it is."

"Dean I hardly think that tone is necessary. It is dinner and nothing more." Castiel replied casually slipping out of his seat and walking towards the door. Dean reached out catching the cuff of his sleeve before he made it passed. Castiel looked down at him with surprise. Dean knew it was foolish to be edgy but being over-cautious was another thing entirely. 

"Listen," Dean said in a half whisper "Take your hex bag with you. Don't know how we where found out before, don't wanna risk being you being sprung alone."

"Sprung?"

"Where you raised under a rock?" Dean moaned "Attacked." 

"Of coarse," Castiel replied with a tight nod "I will take my satchel bag with me and keep it in there. Will that be sufficient?"

"That should be fine." Dean said taking the relief that thought brought him. As he stared up at the young boy, scrapes and wounds half healed on his face, he felt a sudden guilt run him through. Bobby had been right; he should have ditched Castiel the day after they'd met. Weather it had been Castiel who had requested sharing the road trip or not Dean had known better. Travelling with a hunter was always no safe way to be. Castiel should be out dating girls, moving into his cousin's house and starting school. Not following Dean into the dark places of the world, fending off ghosts and fighting for his life. 

"Dean?" 

Dean heard Castiel's voice and blinked. Castiel shook his arm gently and Dean realized he was still holding it. Dean let out a snort and his hand fell away.

"These meds man – it's like walking under water." Dean laughed turning back to his meal "See you later." 

He felt Castiel standing by his side for a long moment before the bell rang, the door closed and he was gone. 

* * *

The car jumped across the imperfections in the asphalt surface as it drove down the long road flanked by wide fields of gold wheat. The afternoon was pleasantly warm and scenery picturesque however the atmosphere inside the car was tense. Lucille shifted her weight impatiently and Cole steadied the steering wheel. 

"Are you sure this tips good?" She snapped into the backseats, which where mostly filled by Charlie.

"If it's not it's only an hours drive out o town." Cole replied for the silent giant "Take it easy darlin. If they aren't there then-" Cole looking meaningfully into her eyes "Charlie can take a little walk. You don't mind walking do you Charlie?" 

"Whatever you like Boss." he replied casually. 

"You are completely ridiculous sometimes." she spat turning away from him to glare out her window into the fields and trees that whizzed by. 

"Why's that?" he asked turning his attention back to the road.

"Your attachment to these meat suits is impossible." she replied impetuously.

"Smoked a million cigarettes, rotten with hate from the war and in fighting shape" he paused gesturing to his vessel "And yours…well. She's a piece of work. Black swing dancer from Louisiana with legs that won't quit and eyes that could light ya on fire. What's wrong with wanting to hang on to em?"

"We could have been there and back already if we'd travelled without them." Lucille replied. 

"Then we wouldn't have the car dear heart." his husky tone moving through a grin.

"I hate it when you call me that." she shot back a playful glint in her eyes.

"There it is." Charlie said a muscular arm cutting off their view of each other to point down the road. Cole scanned the next few miles and saw it. He brought the car back to 5mph and pulled it into a wheat field across from the driveway. He drove it around through the wheat and aimed it back up the road behind the first row of wheat.

"Why don't we just go inside boss?" Charlie asked.

"The joint has protection," Cole explained switching the car off and settling back into his seat "We just have to wait." 

The three stared at the driveway. It was adorned with an arch made of twisted metal and behind it in the near distance lay piles of car parts stacked high.

* * *

The dashing detective and host of mobsters played out their drama through Deans mind and he flicked over the pages of The Maltese Falcon. Time had melted away and whenever Dean glanced at the clock hours had vanished. His stomach grumbled with hunger in spite of the massive lunch Dean had inhaled. Nevertheless he was glad he had been so engrossed in the book that he'd missed then dinner rush and no doubt would receive his meal post haste when he eventually went downstairs. He'd decided that he would call Sam after he'd finished the book and subtly ask for more of the same without mentioning how engaged he'd been. The last thing he needed from Sam was a huge smug smile the first time he saw him after a year apart.

A thumping sound caught Dean's attention and he raised his gaze to stare at the front door of his room. He recognized the sound was running footsteps heavy and ascending the stairs. Dean frowned and waited for them to stop. The running did not cease and was soon muffled by the carpet of the top floor. He listened with growing concern as the forceful stride came down the hall approaching his room. Dean placed the book down on his bedside table and reached his hand under his bed where he had wedged a shotgun between the frame and mattress. 

He pulled at the handle but it did not come loose. Dean yanked harder the footsteps less then a room away and the gun budged but did not come loose.

"Shit!" Dean swore through his teeth leaning over the bed to get a better angle when the door slammed open. He turned his torso back to face the door eyes wide. 

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed momentarily relaxed before he noticed the expression on the boys face as he stepped into the room. It was something close to a scowl.

"I thought you trusted me!" Castiel raised his voice in a rare expression of anger.

"Wha-" Before Dean could finish Castiel cut him off. 

"We have been through much since we have met and yet it is clear to me now that it has meant nothing!" he raged pacing back and forth agitatedly.

"Woah woah! What are you talking about?" Dean shouted pulling himself up to kneel on his bed hands raised defensively.

"Do. Not. Toy with me Dean." Castiel spoke tone low and dangerous. There was something in his presence that drew chills through Dean. 

"I trust you Cas!" Dean exclaimed at a loss as to what was happening.

"Liar!" Castiel spat and his hand plunged into his bag "I let you throw salt on me and holy water and spoke latin to me and this is how I am repaid?!" 

He threw something that flicked into Dean's skin with a sting.

"Ow." Dean said incredulously looking down at the small object. He lifted it up for closer inspection before sinking back onto his haunches with a smirk. 

"I fail to see the amusing side in this." Castiel continued jabbing his finger accusingly at the item "That is a pentagram – a sign of the devil and you placed it in my bag. Did you want some evil thing to come for me?"

"Cas calm down." Dean said holding out the coin sized object "Little known fact: pentagrams are actually a sign for protection."

Castiel took a few deep breaths as he stared at from Dean to the amulet.

"It is not evil?" Castiel clarified squinting in confusion "My father always said it was devil worship nonsense."

"It's a powerful protection against evil." Dean replied with a correcting tone.

"Oh." Castiel said.

"Yeah oh." Dean echoed. Castiel stared at the floor for a moment loose hands tightening into fists before rounding the bed and sitting down on the mattress next to Dean.

"You put it in my bag?" Castiel asked looking over his shoulder at Dean sheepishness replacing the previously furious tone.

"I put it in your jacket pocket." Dean said calmly "When we got to Rufus' house I slipped it in there on the way to the front door. Must've fallen into your bag."

"Then," Castiel said after a moment face turning away and head hanging "All you meant was for me to be protected."

Dean shifted awkwardly at the sentiment but bit out as casual a 'yeah' as he could manage. He opened up his book again in an effort to look nonchalant. Castiel sat very still and fell silent. 

"Dude…when you fly off the handle you really fly of the handle." Dean said impressed "I mean all this time I thought you where meek and mild. Buddy was I wrong." He saw Castiel's shoulders sag and he said nothing. Dean frowned wondering if he had hit a sore spot. 

"Hey." Dean called and Castiel tilted his head slightly in Dean's direction.

"Everyone gets mad every now and then." Dean said reassuringly "You should see my dad and brother go at it. You'd think it was the end of the world."

"I apologize for my behavior." Castiel said voice sounding small. Dean leaned forward whacking Castiel's back lightly with the back of his hand.

"Don't worry about it." Dean said before settling back against the headboard. As they sat there in the quiet a thought occurred to Dean "Hey why are you here anyway, shouldn't you be at dinner with Gladice? Tell me you didn't leave her just to storm over her. Birds don't like that Cas." 

"No…she could not stay. She said she was feeling ill and left early." Castiel explained. 

"What a curve." Dean sighed inexplicable relief settling over his stomach "Well we're here for a week you might have another go yet."

Castiel made a sound that might have been a snort of a laugh.

"Dean?" Castiel said.

"Hmm?" Dean asked half listening half reading. 

"You seemed odd when I left you at the diner today. Do you feel ok?" Castiel asked looking over his shoulder once more to watch Dean.

"Yeah Cas," Dean said eyes not leaving the safety of the page while the words lost their meaning as he lost his focus "I just…it sucks that you're stuck in this situation."

"What situation?"

"The ghosts, the pigs, the nightmares." Dean replied careful to keep his voice close to neutral, "You just wanted to see New Orleans and go home."

Dean could almost feel Castiel lighting up. He ignored it for a few moments before it became too distracting. 

"Ok what?" he said agitation finding it's way into his voice as the book dropped into his lap once more.

"I wanted to know you too." Castiel said lightly.

"Me?" Dean said with some disbelief "Why?"

"You are a strange and interesting man Dean," Castiel replied before reluctantly adding "and I did not want to be alone."

"Huh." Dean said with a small smile "Back at you." 

"I do not regret this journey with you," Castiel added "Do not doubt that."

"Cool." Dean said satisfied "Hey Cas you wanna get dinner?"

"Yes." Castiel said standing "I shall pay for both our meals as recompense for my earlier outburst."

"Alright but after that we're square." Dean replied firmly. 

* * * 

Cole strained against the figure twisting in his grasp as he dragged him down the stairs. Even bound, gagged and blinded by a canvas bag the man continued to struggle feet kicking and scraping against the worn wooden steps. Cole hissed out a breath of musty air and snarled slamming the man against the wall hard to stun him. It was effective enough to still him till they'd reached the bottom of the steps. He hauled the figure that pulled and thrashed down the hall and kicked the door to his poker room open. 

"Get out!" he snarled at the small group of players inside who scattered at the sight of him. He listened to their running footsteps and his lips pulled into a dark sneer. Gangster rumors where always good for his reputation. He threw the figure roughly onto his back and tied his feet together then stood throwing his head back.

"They weren't kidding brother," Cole huffed slightly short on breath as he straightened his hair and expensive suit "You are a fighter." 

The figure made muffled angry sounds muted by the gag as Cole set to work. He strode over and shoved the poker table to the corner along with all but one of the chairs. As he crossed the room he turned the chair around to face the door then made his way over to a wooden box on which rested a length of rope. 

"Neat trick with Charlie," Cole said grabbing the figure by his collar and dragging him back to his feet "I respect that you figured out what he is. He's eaten at least 16 hunters who didn't know what he was till he was chewing their bones."

He threw the figure onto the chair nearly knocking it over and began pulling the rope round both the chair and the man.

"He'll be right as rain and down to see you soon though." Cole added moving behind the chair and tying a knot. He put his foot against the back of the chair and pulled the rope hard till it broke the skin on his hands. The knot would have to be cut before it would come undone. He walked back to inspect his work and watch the man twisting back and forth still trying to escape his bonds. 

Cole viewed the sight with a pleased kind of amusement as the mans arms dragged back and forth across the ropes which before long would leave angry red sores. He ripped the bag off staring at the furious expression beneath. It was a man in his mid fifties with a green flannelette shirt and dirty jeans. A scrape on his forehead had bled leaving a trickle of smudged red down his cheek and into his grizzly beard. 

"Pleasure to finally meet you," Cole spat before lashing out with a punch that smashed into the mans face and sent the chair flying back onto the ground with a crack "Bobby Singer." 

He heard movement and looked over his shoulder to see Lucille waiting outside the door. He gave Bobby one last glance to check he was unconscious before walking over to join her.

"How's Charlie?" he asked. 

"For the moment I have done all I can for him" Lucille replied eyeing Bobby with deadly intent, "The enchantment is going to wear off but it will take time" 

"Good," Cole replied. Lucille reached up placing a hand on either side of his face and turning his chin towards the light.

"You're burned." she commented brushing a thumb over a long contusion. It stung sweetly at her touch. 

"You too." he said noting her injuries before looking back into the room, Lucille following his line of sight. 

"Should we get started on him?" she asked anticipation clear in her voice. 

"No." Cole replied coldly "Let the thirst and hunger get at him first."


End file.
